Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland

This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project
to make the world's books discoverable online.

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject
to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books
are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover.

Marks, notations and other marginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the
publisher to a library and finally to you.

Usage guidelines

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying.

We also ask that you:

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for
personal, non-commercial purposes.

+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.

+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it.

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe.

About Google Book Search

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web

at |http : //books . google . com/

d by Google

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

d by Google

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

FAIRY LEGENDS

1 1 "/'I J

AVD

TRADITIONS

or THE

SOUTH OF IRELAND.
PART 11.

LONDON.
JOHN MURRAY.

MOCCCXXVIII.

Digitized by CjOOQ IC

1

LONDON:

PRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISON,^ WHITWHIARS.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

TO

AIR WALTER SCOTT, BAHT.

THIH VOLUME

ii iNvcsiaKu,

IN AIIMIRATION OK HIM (iKNlVn,

AMI)

IN ORATITtrnK FOR 1119 KINIINKHH,

MY

T. CROFTON CHOKER.

Digitized by CjOOQIC

The Etchings hy^ and Wood Engrawngt after the dratcwgs of I

W. H.Brooke, F,S. A. j

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

PREFACE.

In redeeming a promise made in the pre-
face to the second edition of the Fairy Legends
and Traditions of the South of Ireland, and
placing before the public a second part of the
same work, I trust that the indulgence which
the former volume has experienced will be ex-
tended to the present collection.

The literary intercourse of European na-
tions is now so great, and translation so com-
mon, that a writer has in general but little
reason to plume himself on his work haring
appeared in a French or Gkrman dress. But
die character of the translator may confer
value on that otherwise indifferent circum«
stance ; and I cannot but feel and express a
eonsMerable d^ree of satisfaction at observing
my fonncr volume translated into German hy

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

VI PREFACE.

such eminent scholars as the brothers Grimm,
whose friendship and valuable correspondence
it has also procured me. Their veraon, which
I had not seen when the second edition ap-
peared, is, as might be expected^ faithful and
spirited ; and 'to it they have pi^eiixed a most
learned and valuable introduction respecting
Fairy superstition in general.

" Whoever,'' says Dr. Grimm, in the pre-
face to the German translation, ^^ has a relish
for innocent and simple poetry, will feel at-
tracted by these tales* They possess a pecu-^
liar flavour which is not without its charms^
and they come to us from a country of which
we are in general reminded in but few^ and
those not very pleasant relations. It is, more-
over, inhabited by a people whose antiquity
and early civilization is attested by history ;
and who, as they in part still speak their own
language, must, retain living traces of their
former times, to show which the belief in
supernatural beings here exhibited yields, per-
haps, one of the best examples.''

The following extracts from the public
prints are evidences of the popular su^sti**
tion of Ireland, and are in themselves too re^

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

PIIEFACB. Vll

IpQarkable to be omitted in a work professing
to illustrate the subject. Deeply as I lament
that such delusion should exist, these facts
will sufficiently prove that I have not (as ha?
been insinuated) conjured up forgotten tales,
or attempted to perpetuate a creed which had
disappeared. On the contrary, my aim has
been to bring the twilight tales of the pea-
santry before the view of the philosopher ; as,
if suffered to remain unnoticed, the latent bea^
lief in them may long have lingered among the
inhabitants of the wild mountain and lone*
some glen, to retard the progress of their
civilization.

'' Tralee Assizes, July, 18S6. — Child Murder,-^

Ann Roche^ an old woman of very advanced age^ was in*

dieted for the murder of Michael Leahy^ a young child,

by drowning him in the Flesk. This case^ which at

first assumed a very serious aspect^ from the meaning

imputed to words spoken by the prisoner^ ' that the

tin of the child's death was on the grandmother, and

not on the prisoner/ turned out to be a homicide com*

^ nutted under the delusion of the grossest superstition.

The child, though four years old, could neither stand,

walk, or speak — it was thought to be fairy-struck—

vaA the%randmother ordered the piiBimer and one of

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

VUl PREFACE. •

the witnesses^ Mary Cllfibrd, to bathe the child ereiy
morning in that pool of the riyer Flesk where the
boundaries of three farms met ; they had so bathed
it for three mornings running, and on the last morning
the prisoner kept the child longer under the water
than usual^ when her companion (the witness^ Mary
iClifibrd) said to the prisoner, ' How can you^opc
ever to see God after this ?' to which the prisoner re*
plied^ < that the sin was on the grandmother and not
on her.' Upon cross-examination^ the witness said it
was not done with intent to kill the child, but to cure
it — to put the fairy out of it.

" The policeman who apprehended her stated^ that
on chai^ng her with drowning the child^ she said it
was no matter if it had died four years ago.

^^ Baron Pennefather said, that though it was a case
of suspicion^ and required to be thoroughly examined
into^ yet the jury would not be safe in convicting the
prisoner of murder^ howeyer strong their suspicioDS
might be. Verdict— Not guilty." — Morning Pott.

" An inquest was held on Saturday last, on the
body of a man of the name of Connor, a schoolmaster,
in the neighbourhood of Castle Nenor, county of Sligo.
This unfortunate man had expressed his determination
to read liis recantation on the following Sunday, not-
withstanding all the efforts of his friends to dissuade
him ; they succeeded in enticing him into a house,
where he was found suspended from the ceiling. A
terdict of Wilful Murder against persons ftdcnown
t

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

^, PEEFACE. . 1X»

i«as found at tbe. inquest; and warrants were issued
against his own father and two of his cousins on sus*>
picion of having perpetrated the deed: These persons
endeavoured to circulate a report that he had been
hanged by the fairies* It appeared on the inquest
that tholse persons, who were the first to give the alarm,
had passed by some houses in the immediate vicinity
of the house where the body was found Jianging/'-r
I>uUm Evmng Mail, ISth Apil, 1827.

It would be in the power of every one con-
versant with the manners of the counUy to
produce instances of the undoubting belief
in these superstitions, if not so formal and
revolting as the foregoing, yet fully as con-
vincing.

Notwithstanding the collection of Irish
fairy legends, which I have formed in this
and the former volume, the subject is far from
being exhausted. But here, at least as relates
to Ireland, I have determined to finish my
task. A third or supplementary volume will,
however, appear under the same title; and
although forming a separate work on the
fairy superstitions of Wales and other coun-
tries, it may be considered as illustrative of
those current in Ireland.

PART II. b

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

X 7fiSFACS.

lit candunon^ I hftre to offer my very be^t
acknowledgments for the many communica*
tions with which I have been favoured. To
Mr. Lynch, in particular, my thanks are due
for a manuscript collection of legends, from
which those of " Diarmid Bawn, the Piper,*"
and ^^Rent Day^^have been selected* The
material assistance, however, derived from va-
rious sources will be evident, and these sources
are so numerous as almost to preclude indi-
vidual mention.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

COXTEN'T-i.

THE HESBOW.

TheLadyorG<Aentt .

'"<«
5

Flory CantiDon's Foncnl

. »

The Soul Gages

. »

, S»

The Wdnderfiil Time

. «7

THE DULLAHAX.

The Good Woman 85

Hanlon's Mill 103

The Harvest Dinner . . . .112

The Death Coach 133

The Headless Horseman . . . .138

i THE PIR-DARBIG.
Diarmid Bawn, the Piper . . 156
TeigueoftheLee . . . .164
Ned Sheehy's Excuse . . .178
The Lucky Guest 203

k

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

^11 CONTENTS.

TREASURE LEGENDS.

Dreaming Tim Jarvis
Rent Day .....
Scath-a^Legaune ....
Linn-na-Payshtha .

ROCKS AND STONES

Legend of Cairn Thiema
The Rock of the Candle .
Clough-na-Cuddy .
Barry of Cairn Thiema .
The Giant's Stairs .

Page

221
236
244
259

275

280

302
315

Digitized by LjOOQIC

LEGENDS OF THE MERROW,

THE LADY OP GOLLERUS.

On the shore of Smerwick harbour^ one iine
summer's mornings just at day^break^ stood Dick
Fitzgerald ^' shoghing the dudeen," which may be
translated^ smoking his pipe. The sun was gra-
dually rising behind the lofty Brandon^ the dark
sea was getting green in the lights and the mists
clearing away out of the valleys went rolling
and curling like the smoke from the comer of
Dick's mouth.

'' 'Tis just the pattern of a pretty morning,"
said Dick^ taking the pipe from between his lips,
and looking towards the distant ocean, which lay
as still and tranquil as a tomb of polished marble.
'* Well, to be sure," continued he, after a pause,
^' 'tis mighty lonesome to be talking to one's self
by way of company, and not to have another soul

b2

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

4 THE LADY OF GOLLERUS,

to answer one — ^nothing but the child of one's
own voice, the echo ! I know this, that if I had
the luck, or may be the misfortune/' said Dick,
with a melancholy smile, " to have the woman, it
would not be this way with me ! — and what in
the wide world is a man without a wife ? He 's
no more surely than a bottle without a drop of
drink in it, or dancing without music, or the left
leg of a Bcissars, or a fishing-line without a hook,
or any other matter that is no ways complete. —
Is it not so?" said Dick Fitzgerald, casting his
eyes towards a rock upon the strand, which,
though it could not speak, stood up as firm and
looked as bold as ever Kerry witness did.

But what was his astonishment at beholding,
j.ust at the foot of that rock, a beautiful young crea-
ture ^combing her hair, which was of a sea-green
colour; and now the salt water shining on it,
appeared, in the morning light, like melted butter
upon cabbage.

Dick guessed at once that she was a Merrow,
although he had never seen one before, £br he
spied the cohuleen driuth, or little enchanted
cap, which. the sea people use for diving down
into the ocean, lying upon the strand, near her;
and he had heard, that if once he could possess
himself of the cap, she would lose the power of
going away into the water : so he seized it with

. / ' Digitized by»VjOOQlC-

THE LADY OP GOLLERUS. 5

all speedy and she, hearing the noise^ turned her
head about as natural as any Christian.

When the Merrow saw that her little divings
cap was gone^ the salt tears— doubly salt^ no
doubts from her — came triclding down her cheeks^
and she began a low mournful cry with just the
tender voice of a new-bom infant. Dick^ al-
though he knew well enough what |^e was cry-
ing for^ determined to keep the cohuleen driuth,
let her cry never so mudi^ to see what luck
would come out of it. Yet he could not help
pitying her; and when the dumb thing looked
up in his face^, and her cheeks all moist with
tears^ 'twas enough to make any one feel, let
alone Dick, who had ever and always, like most
of his countrymen, a mi^ty tender heart of his
own.

" Don't cry, my darling," said Dick Pitz*
garald; but the Merrow, like any bold child^
only cried the more for that.

Dick sat himself down by her side, and took
hold of her hand, by way of comforting her.
'Twas in no particular an ugly hand, only there
was a small web between the fingers, as there is
In a duck's foot ; but 'twas as thin and as "white
as the skin between egg and shell.

'^ What's your name, my darling?" says Dick,
thinking to make her conversant with him; but

Digitized by LjO*OQ IC

6 THE LADY X>T GOLLE11U8.

he got xko answer ; and lie was certain sure now,
either that she could not speak, or did not under-
stand him: he therefore squeezed her hand in
^ his, as the only way he had of talking to her.
It 's the universal language ; and there 's not a
woman in the world, be she fish or lady, that does
not understand it.

The Merrow did not seem much displeased at
this mode of conyersation; and, making an end
of her whining all at once — ^' Man," says she,
looking up in Didc Fitzgerald's face, ^' Man,
will you eat me?" '

" By all the red petticoats and dieck aprons
between Dingle and Tralee," cried Dick, jumping
up in amazement, ^' I 'd as soon eat myself, my
jewel ! Is it I eat you, my pet ?*— Now, 'twas some
ugly ill-looking thief of a fish put that notion
into your own pretty head, with the nice green
hair down upon it, that is so cleanly combed out
thii^ morning !"

'^ Man," said the Merrow, '' what will you do
with me, if you won't eat me ?"

Dick's thoughts were running on a wife : he
saw, at the first glimpse, that she was handsome ;
but since she spoke, and spoke too like any real
woman, he was fairly in love with her. *Twas
the neat way she caUed him man, that settled
the matter entirely.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE LADY OF GOLLERUS. 7

" Pish," says Dick, trying to speak to her after
her own short fashion ; " fish," says he, " here 's
my word, fresh and fasting, for you this hlessed
morning, that I '11 make you mistress Fitzgerald
before all the world, and that 's what 1 11 do."

'^ Never say the word twice," says she ; '^ I 'm
ready and willing to be yours, mister Fitzgerald ;
but stop, if you please, 'till I twist up my hair."

It was some time before she had settled it en-
tirely to her liking ; for she guessed, I suppose,
that she was going among strangers, where she
would be looked at. When that was done, the
Merrow put the comb in her pocket, and then
bent down her head and whispered some words
to the water that was close to the foot of the
rock.

Dick saw the murmur of the words upon the
top of the sea, going out towards the wide ocean,
just like a breath of wind rippling along, and,
says he, in the greatest wonder, ^^ Is it speaking
you are, my darling, to the salt water?"

'' It's nothiiig else," says she, quite carelessly,
" I 'm just sending word home to my father, not
to be waiting breakfast for me ; just to keep him
from being uneasy in his mind.'*

" And who 's your father, my duck ?" says
Dick.

Digitized by CjOOQIC

8 THE LADY OF GOLLERU8.

'^ What !" said the Merrow, " did you never
hear of my father ? he 's the king of the waves,
to he sure !"

^' And yourself, then, is a real king's daughter ?"
said Dick, opening his two eyes to take a full and
true survey of his wife that was to be.

'' Oh, I 'm nothing else hut a made man with
you, and a king your father; — to be sure he has
aU the money that 's down in the bottom of the
sea!"

'^ Money," repeated the Merrow, "what's
money ?"

" 'Tis no bad thing to have when one wants
it," replied Dick ; '' and may be now the fishes
have the understanding to bring up whatever
you bid them ?"

" Oh ! yes," said the Merrow, " they bring me
what I want."

" To speak the truth then," said Dick, " 'tis
a straw bed I have at home before you, and that,
I'm thinking, is no ways fitting for a king's
daughter; so if 'twould not be displeasing to
you, just to mention, a nice feather bed, with a
pair of new blankets — ^but what am I talking
about ? may be you have not such things as beds
down under the water ?"

" By aU means," said she, " Mr. Fitzgerald —

,y Google

THE LADY OF GOIXERUS. 9

plenty of beds at your service. I 've fourteen
oyster beds of my own, not to mention one just
planting for the rearing of young ones."

^^ You have/' says Dick, scratching his head
and looking a little puzzled. '^ 'Tis a feather
bed I was speaking of— but clearly, yours is the
very cut of a decent plan, to have bed and supper
so handy to each other, that a person when they 'd
have the one, need never ask for the other."

However, bed or no bed, money or no money,
Dick Fitzgerald determined to marry the Mer-
row, and the Merrow had given her consent.
Away they went, therefore, across the Strand,
from GoUerus to Ballinrunnig, where Father
Fitzgibbon happened to be that morning.

" There are two words to this bargain, Dick
Fitzgerald," said his Reverence, looking mighty
glum. ^' And is it a fishy woman you 'd marry? —
the Lord preserve us ! — Send the scaly creature
home to her own people, that 's my advice to you,
wherever she came from."

Dick had the cohuleen driuth in his hand, and
was about to give it back to the Merrow, who
looked covetously at it, but he thought for a mo-
ment, and then, says he —

" Please your Reverence, she 's a king's daugh-
ter."

" If she was the daughter of fifby kings," said

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

10 THE LADY OF GOLLERUS.

Father Fitzgibbon^ '' I tell you, you can't marry
her, she being a fish."

'* Please your Reverence/' said Dick again, in
an under tone, '^ she is as mild and as beautiful as
the moon."

^' If bhe Was as mild and as beautiful as the
sun, moon, and stars, all put together, I tell you,
Dick Fitzgerald," said the Priest, stamping his
right foot, '^ you can't marry her, ^he being a
fish!"

'^ But she has all the gold that 's down in the
sea only for the asking, and I 'm a inade man if I
marry her ; and," said Dick, looking up slily, " I
can make it worth any one's while to do the
job."

^'Oh! that alters the case entirely," replied
the Priest ; " why there *s some reason now in
what you say : why didn't you tell me this before ?
—marry her by all means if she was ten times a
fish. Money, you Imow, is not to be refused in
these bad times, and I may as well have the
tiansel of it as another, that may be would not
take half the pains in counselling you that I have
done."

So Father Fitzgibbon married Dick Fitzgerald
to the Merrow, and like any loving couple, they
returned to Gkillerus weU pleased with each other.
Every thing prospered with Di^^k — ^he was at the

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE LADY OF GOLLERUS. 11

sunny side of the world; the Merrow made the
best of wives, and they lived together in the
greatest contentment.

It was wonderful to see, considering where she
had been brought up, how she would busy herself
about the house, and how well she nursed the
children ; for, at the end of three years, there
were as many young Fitzgeralds — ^two boys and
a girl.

In short, Dick was a happy man, and so he
fhight have continued to the end of his days, if he
had only the sense to take proper care of what
he had got ; many another man, however, beside
Dick, has not had wit enough to do that.

One day when Dick was obliged to go to
Tralee, he left the wife, minding the children at
home after him, and thinking she had plenty to
do without disturbing his fishing tackle.

Dick was no sooner gone than Mrs. Fitzgerald
set about cleaning up the house, and diancing to
pull down a fishing net, what should she find be-
hind it in a hole in the wall, but her own cokuleen
driutk.

She took it out and looked at it, and then she
thought of her father the king, and her mother
the queen, and her brothers and sisters, and she
felt a longing to go back to them.

She sat down on a little stool and thought over

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

12 THE LADY OF GOLLERUS.

the happy days she had spent under the sea ; then
she looked at her children^ and thought on the
love and affection of poor Dick^ and how it would
break his heart to lose her. " But," says she,
'' he won't lose me entirely, for I *11 come back to
him again, and who can blame me for going to
see my father and my mother a^er being so long
away from them ?"

She got up and went towards the door, but
eame back again to look once more at the child
that was sleeping in the cradle. She kissed it
gently, and as she kissed it, a tear trembled for
jin instant in her eye and then fell on its rosy
cheeki She wiped away the tear, and turning to
the eldest little girl, told her to take good care of
her brothers, and to be a good child herself, until
she came back. The Merrow then went down to
the strand. — The sea was lying calm and smooth,
just heaving and glittering in the sun, and she
thought she heard a faint sweet singing, inviting
her to come down. All her old ideas and feelings
came flooding over her mind, Dick and her children
were at the instant forgotten, and placing the
cohuleen driuth on her head, she plunged in.

Dick came home in the evening, and missing
his wife, he asked Kathelin, his little girl, what
had become of her mother, but she could not tell
him* He then inquired of the neighbours^ ^nd

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE LADY OF UOU.Efit'h. 13

be Immed thftl she wii fecn g^Hng Umard* the
ftrnid with a strange hiking thing like a ax;ked
hat In her hand^ He returned to hin caiHn to
search fm the cohuUen driulh. It was gone, and
the truth turn ftaithed upon him*

Year afU'r year did Dick Fit/gerald wait ex*
pecting the return n^ his wife, imt he never saw
her mote, Dick never married again, always
thinking that the Merrrnr wouhl scxmer or later
return to him, and mHhing could ever persuade
him but that her father the king ke|H her Ijelow
by main fwce ; " For," said Dick, " she surely
would not of herself give up her huiiliand and her
children."

While slie was with him, she was so gtxxi a
wife in t^i^ry respect, that to this day she is
■fioken of in the tradition ti^ the omntry as the
ficitt4'm for one, under the name of th k Lady or
iiiiULKHvn.

The peq>lc of Feroe say, tluit the seal every Hint It
ttight pnu off its skin and gets a human foniL, iiiil
then dances and sports like the ** human m(^ruli/'
till it resumes iu skin and bccomirs a seal again 1 i
once happeficd that a man came by while thU f<j
pber, and seeing the tkin^ be seiaeed it and tiid

dbyGoOgll

14 THE LADY OF GOLLERUS«

When the seal^ which was in the shape of a woman^
could not find iti skin to creep into> it was forced to
remain in the human form^ and^ as she was fair to
look upon^ the same man took her to wife^ had children
hy her^ and lived right happy with her. After a long
time^ the wife found the skin that had heen stolen
and could not resist the temptation to creep into it>
and so she became a seal again.

Danske Folkesagn, vol 3. p. 51.

Mr. Hibbert^ in his Description of the Shetland
Islands, relates the same story in such a pleasing
manner^ that it is impossible to refrain from quoting
his words. '' Sometimes," he informs us, " Mermen
and Merwomen have formed connubial attachments
with the human race. A story is told of an inhabitant
of Unst, who, in walking on the sandy margin of a
voe, saw a number of these beings dancing by moon-
light, and seyeral seal-skins strewed beside them on
the ground. At his approach, they immediately fled
to secure their garbs, and taking upon themselves the
form of seals, plunged immediately into the sea. But
as the Shetlander perceived that one skin lay close to
his feet, he snatched it up, bore it swiftly away, and
placed it in concealment. On returning to the shore,
he met the fairest damsel that was ever gazed upon
by mortal eyes lamenting the robbery by which she
should become an exile from her submarine friends
and a tenant of the upper world. Vainly she implored
the restitution of her property : the man had drunk
deeply of love, and was inexorable, but offered her

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE I«ADY OF GOLLERUS. 15

protection beneath his roof as his betrothed spouse.
The Merlady perceiving that she must become an
inhabiUnt of the earthy found that she could not do
better than accept of the ofibr. This strange connu-
bial attachment subsisted for many years^ and several
children were the fruits of it^ who retained no farther
marks of their origin^ than in the resemblance which
a sort of web between their fingers bore to the fore-
feet of a seal—this peculiarity being possessed by ^e
descendants of the family to the present day. The
Shetlander's love for his Merwife was unbounded^ but
his affection was coldly returned. The lady would
often steal alone to the desert strand, and^ on a signal
being given^ a large seal would make his appearance^
with whom she would hold^ in an unknown tongue>
an anxious conference. Years had thus glided away^
when it happened that one of the children^ in the
course of his play^ found concealed beneath a stack of
com a seal's skin, and,, delighted with the prize^ ran
with it to his mother. Her eyes glistened with rap-
ture — she gazed upon it as her own — as the means by
which she could pass through the ocean that led to
her native home. She burst forth into an ecstasy of
joy, which was only moderated when she beheld her
children whom she was now about to leave, and after
hastily embracing them, fled with all speed towards
the sea side. The husband immediately returned—
learned the discovery that had taken place — ran to
overtake his wife, but only arrived in time to see her
transformation of shape completed — to see her in the

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

16 THE LADY OF GOLLERUS.

form of a seal^ bound from the ledge of a rock into
the sea. The large animal of the same kind with
whom she had held a secret converse soon appeared,
and evidently congratulated her in the most tender
manner on her escape. But before she dived to un-
known depth, she cast a parting glance at the wretched
Shetlander, whose despairing looks excited in her
breast a few transient feelings of commiseration.
' Farewell/ said she to him : ' I loved you very well
when I resided upon dirth, but I always loved my
first husband much better.' "—Page 569.

Mr. Thiele tells us, in a note on the Danske
Folkesagn, that there are still families who believe
themselves to be descended from such marriages. A
similar belief exists in Kerry respecting the OTla-
herty and the O'Sullivan families; and the Macna-
maras, a Clare family, have their name from a tradition
of the same nature. Morgan, according to Ussher,
signified in the ancient British ** Bom of the Sea"
It was the real name of the celebrated Felagius ; and
is at present a very common one in Wales.

Vade, the father of the famous smith Velent, was
the son of king Vilkinus and a Mermaid whom he met
in a wood on the sea shore in Russia.

Vilkina Saga^ c. 18.

The stories of Peleusand Thetis in classical, and of
king Beder and the fair Gulnare in oriental literature,
may be referred to, as well as the ballad of Rosmer
Havmand translated by Mr. Jamieson from the
Koempe V iser, and many others.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE LADY OF OOLLERUS. 11

" Paracelsus/' says old Burton, " hath several sto^
ries of them" (Water devOs), *' how they have lived,
and been married to mortal men, and so continued
for several years with them, and after, upon some
dislike, have forsaken them." — Anatomic of Melan^
chohfyp. 47.

The Irish word Merrow, correctly written Jlfo-
r{Mdh, or MoHach, answers exactly to the English
mermaid, and is the compound of mutr, the sea, and
oigh, a maid. It is also used to express a sea mon-
ster, like the Armoric and C<Mmish morhuch^ to which
it evidently bears analogy. A mermaid is called in
Basse Bretagne, Mary Morgan. Is Mary, Marie,
or is it derived from the sea? Morgan has been
already mentioned.

. In Irish, Murdhvcha^n^ Muir-'gheilU Samhghubha,
and Suire, are vari«jus names for sca*nymphs or mer-
maids. The romantic historians of Ireland describe
the Suire, or sea-nymphs, as playing round the ships
of the Milesians when on their passage to that Island.

The poem of Moira JBorb (to be found in Miss
Brooke's Relics of Irish Poetry) celebrates the valour
of the Finian heroes in the cause of a lady, who intro-
duces herself in pretty nearly the words of the Mer-
row, in the foregoing story. "2ir me ins^^o ms To
CMIJO" ^ o.m the davghier of, the king under the
waves.

The cohuleen dduih bears some resemblance to the
feather dresses of the ladifs, in the orienUl talcs of
Jahanshah, and Hassan of Bassora. There is soroc-

PART II.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

18 TUB I4ADY OF GOLLERUS.

thing also of the same witure in a modern Gennan
Tale. It may he explained aa an enchanted eap^ from
euihdaritn, a sort of montera or monmouth cap ; and
dr^adhf a charmer or magician.

In the tale^ a rock on the shore is said to look as
hold as ever Kerry witness did. A Kerry witness
(no offence to MacGillicuddy) signifies a witness who
will swear any thing.

" The^udeen," or the pipe, *' the woman," and such
expressions, are examples of the practice so common
among the Irish of using the article instead of the
possessive pronoun. In this, and the preceding vo-^
lume, there are many instances. It agrees extremely
with the Greek idiom ; and the late hishop of Cal-
cutta might have found in it a strong exemplification
of some points of his doctrine respecting the article.
It has, at all events, a hetter effect than the empha-
tically expressed mi/ of the English,

Dick calls the echo the child of his voice: the
daughter, according to General Vallancey, is a literal
translation of the Irish compound name for Echo, and
a convincing argtlment of our eastern origin. " What
people in the world," says that fanciful antiquary,
" the orientalists and the Irish excepted, called the
copy of a hook the son of a book, and echo the
daughter of a voice ?" The General here evidently
alludes to the Rahbinical mode of divination by
'jV'iaj !• ^« i^ daughter of the voice.

Mucaila is the Hibernian term for the ^' Jocosa
Montis imago " of Horace^ and is explained by Dr.

Digitized by LjOOQIC

THE LADY OF 60LLEEI/9. 19

O'Brieii, in his Irish Dictionary^ u ike pig of the
rock.or cliff'; ^very^ if it be not MaiCaUa, mm of the
cliff', wbieh Gesenl Valkneey, irith.his nnul i^
genuity in the confounding of wotdi, has tFaosUiied
daughter? AUahbair, another Iijab name for eeho^
or rather a compound echo, is, litcnUj* the eUfft game
ai goal, or the hoQading and rebounding of the ▼dee,
as the ball in that game.

In Iceland they assign a supernatural origin to
Echo, and call it Dvergmal or the ydoe of the Dvergs
or Dwarfs.

Smerwick harbour, where the scene of the tale is
laid, is sftuated on the north side of a little '' tongue"
of land^ which the county Kerry shoots forth into the
Atlantic, and which, to use the words of Camden, is
" beaten on with barking billows on both sides." It
is memorable in history, from the landing of some
Spaniards and Italians, in 1579, under the pope*s con-
secrated banner, who threw up a defence there, called
Fort del Ore. Sir Walter Raleigh's butchery of the
garrison -in cold blood still i eroains a subject of exe-
cration in the mouths of the Irish peasantry, and a
stain upon English history, which even the pens of
Spenser and Camden fail in vindicating. To it,
however, we are said to be indebted for the poet's
truly valuable work, " a View of the State of Ire-
land," undertaken for the purpose of excunng his
patron, lord Grey de Wilton, then'lord deputy of
Ireknd.

A map of Smerwick harbour, illustrative of this

c2

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

20 THE LADY OF GOLLERUS:

events is. preserved in the State Paper Office^ which
that zealous and distinguished antiquary, Mr. Lemon,
conjectures, from the writing, to he the performance
of the author of the ^* Fairie Queen."

GoUerus is a small village on the eastern side of the
harhour, ahout a quarter of a mile from the shore, near
which there is a very ancient stone cell or chapel, a
bmlding probably coeval with the round tower.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

PLOBY CANTILLON'S FUNERAL.

The andent Inmal-plaoe of the CantilloiL
family was on an island in Ballybeigh Baj.
This island was situated at no great distance
firgm die shore^ and at a remote period was jover*
flowed in one of die incroachmenti which the
Atlantic has made on that part of die coast of
Kerry. The fishermen dedaie they ha^e often
seen die ruined walls of an old chapel beneath
them in die water^ as diey sailed over die dear
green sea^ of a sunny afternoon. However diis
may be^ it is well known diat the Gantillons
were> like most odier Irish families^ strongly at«
tached to their ancient burial-place ; and diis at-
tachment led to die custom, when imy of die
fiimily died, of carrying the corpse to the sea side,
where die coffin was left on die shore widiin
reach ci die tide. In die morning it had disap-
peared^ being, as was traditionally belieyed, eon-
T^ed away hy die ancestors of die deceased to
dieir fiunily tomb.

(knmar Crowe^ a county Clare man, was re*

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

22 FLORY CANTILLON S FUNERAL.

lated to the Cantillons hy marriage. '^ Connor
Mac in Cruagh^ of the seven quarters of Brein-
tragh/' as he was commonly called^ and a proud
man he was of the name. Connor^ be it known^
would drink a quart of salt water^ for its medi-
cinal virtues^ before breakfast ; and for the same
reason^ I suppose, double that quantity of raw
mhsAsy betiireen breakfast and ni^t/ which last
he did with lis little inc^venlence to himself as
any man in *tfte barony «f Moyferta; and were I
to «dd CHanderalaw aad'Ibrickan; I don't i^nk 1
•bould say wrong.

On the death «f Flof eiiee OantiUen, Ckmnet
Growe was determined to sali^ himself tkbont
tiie tnith of ^diis stinfy of iil^e old churdi under
the sea: so-when'heiieiEird th^ neSvs 'oi^ike 6ld
fellow's deatlt^ a wUry* tififih hlAi'tb Ardfei^, wher^
Fhufy mBA luM out' -in hijgti style, and a bemitiftil
eefpsehe nadei ' *

Fbry Ittd been'«s^ jolly aaldias rdfio^king'a b^
in his day as erer was utr^tched, and Ms Wale^
vtm in ev>eiy^<i^efpeet"wortlrri0(f'h&i. ^here^was
all Idiid ^4mt&iiids^mt aiM all 4Mxrt'of ^ver#ion
at it, and no kn^lten three gids get liusbandf
tiieie— 4Bare*ludc toftiken. HVei^'l^ln^ 'mA iS
it should be : «iU 'thaf i^io of 4fte eotttffify^i&otaf
Dingle to Tarbert, was at the fineval. The^K^
was wanglatag awi hitUiAy^p ted tK^e^irdi^to dhe

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

FLORY CANTILLON^S FUNERAL. 23

famihr custon, the coffin was carried to Bally*
heigh strand^ where it was laid upon the shore
with a prayer for the repose of the dead.

The moamers departed^ one group alter an«
other^ and at kst Connor Crowe was left alone i
he then piilled out his whiskey bottle^ his drop b£
comfort as he called it> whidi he required^ being
in grief; and ^wn he sat upon a big stone that
was sheltered by a projecting rock^ and partly
concealed ^om view^ to await with' patience the
appearance of the ghostly undertakers. . ^

The evening came on mild and beautiM; he
whistled an old air which he had heard in his
diiMhood^ hoping to keep idle fears out of his
head ; but the wild strain of that melody brought
a thousand recollections with it^ which only made
the twilight appear more pensiye.

^ If 'twas near the gloomy tower of Dunmore^
in my own sweet county^ I was/' said Connor
Crowe, with 'a sigh, ''one might well believe
that the prisonen, who were murdered long ago,
tliere in the vaults under the caslle, would be the
hands to carry eiffthe eoffin out of en^,« for never
a one of them was buried decently, nor had m
mmh as a ooffin vmongstthem all. 'Tis ofben,
sure«nough^ I have heard lamentations and gnat
mmaiojiig ceming from the vaults of Dunmo^
Castle : but;" continued he, after fondlypyeasing

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

24 FLORY CANTILLON's FUNERAL.

his lips to the mouth of his companion^ and silent
comforter^ the whiskey bottle, " didn't I know
all the time well enough, 'twas the dismal sound-
ing waves working through the cliffs and hollows
of the rocks, and fretting themselves to foam.
Oh then, Dunmore Castle, it is you that are the
gloomy looking tower on a gloomy day, with the
gl(x>my hills behind you ; when one has gloomy
thoughts on their heart, and sees you like a ghost
rising out of the smoke made by the kelp burners
on the strand, there is, the Lord save us ! as fear-
ful a look about you as about the Blue Man's Lake
at midnight. WeU then, any how," said Connor,
after a pause, *' is it not a blessed night, though
surely the moon looks mighty pale in the face?
St. Sehan himself between us and all kinds of
harm."

It was, in truth, a lovely moonlight night ; no-
tiiing was to be seen around but the dark rocks,
and the white pebbly beach, upon which the sea
broke with a hoarse and melancholy murmur.
Connor, notwithstanding his frequent dnnights,
felt rather queerish, and almost began to repent
his curiosity. It was certainly a solemn sight to
behold the black coffin resting upon the white
strand. His imagination gradually converted the
deep moaning of old ocean into a mournful wail
for the dead, and from the shadowy recesses of

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

FLOBT CANTILLON'^S FUNERAL. 25

the Tocks he imaged forth strange and visionary
forms.

As the night advanced^ Connor became weary
with watching; he caught himself more than
once in the fact of nodding, when suddenly giving
his head a shake^ he would look towards the
black coffin. But the narrow house of death re-
mained unmoved before him.

It was long past midnight^ and the moon
was sinking into the sea^ when he heard the
sound of many voices, which gradually became
stronger, above the heavy and monotonous roll of
the sea : he listened, and presently could distin-
duish a Keen, of exquisite sweetness, the notes of
which rose and fell with the heaving of the waves,,
whose deep murmur mingled with and supported
the strain !

The Keen grew louder and louder, and seeded
to approach the beach, and then fell into a low
plaintive wail. As it ended, Connor beheld a
number of strange, and in the dim light, myste-
rious-looking figures, emerge from the sea, and
surround the coffin, which they prepared to launch
into the water.

^' This comes of marrying with the creatures
of earth/' said one of the figures, in a dear, yet.
hoBow tone.

''True/' replied another, with a voice still

d by Google

J

26 FLORY CANTILLON S FUNKEAL,

more fearftd, ^' our king would never have com-i
manded his gnawing white-toothed waves to de«>
vour the rocky roots of the island cemetery, had
not his daughter^ DurfuUa^ been buried there by
her mortal husband I"

*^ But the time will come/' said a thirds bend-
ing over the coffin^

" ^Vhen mortal eye — our work shall spy.
And mortal ear — our dirge shall hear."

f^ Then," said a fourth, " our burial of the
Cantillons is at an end for ever I"

As this was spoken, the coffin was borne from
the beach by a retiring wave, and the company
of sea people prepared to follow it ; but at the
moment, one chanced to discover Connor Crowe,
i& fixed with wonder and as motionless with fear
as the stone on which he sat.

" The time is come," «ried the unearthly
being, '^ the time is come ; a human eye looks
on the forms of ocean, a human ear has heaid
their voices : farewell to the Cantillons ; the sons
of the sea are no longer doomed to bury the dust
of the earth V

One after the other turned slowly round, and
regarded Cottnor Crowe, who still remained as
if bound by a i^ll. Again arose their funeral-
song; and on the next wave they followed the
coffin. The>spund of the Istmentfltlon cUed away,

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

rLORY CAMTILI/OK^S ^UNEIIAL. 27

and at length nothing w«f heard but the rush of
waters. The coffin and the train of tea people
tank over the old churdi-yard^ and never^ since
the funeral of old Flory Cantillon, have any of
the fiunily been carried to the strand of Bally-
height for conveyance to their rightful burials
place, beneath the waves of the Atlantic.

Another version of this wild and picturesque tra-
dition has been communicated to the writer by Mr.
Lynch, of the King's German legion. In both legends
the locality is the same; but the name of the M'El-
lioot family is substituted for that of the Cantillons.
The latter, however, accords with the statement of
Doctor Smith, in his History of Kerry, p. 910.

'' The neighbouring inbabiUnts/' says that writer,
speaking of Ballybeigb, " show some rocks viiible in
this bay only at low tides, which they say are the re-
mains of an island that was formerly the burial-place
of the CunUy of Cantillon, the ancient proprietors of
BaUyheigh.''

In the preceding note mention hu been made of
the eoi\iugal union contracted between the human
rsee and the inhabitants of the deep. An attach-
mcfti, however, between the finny tribes and roan
hlt.iMM fsondation in fact, if we are to credit the
§t1im andants. In the following story

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

28 FLORY CANTILLON^S FUNERAL.

given by Athenteus, though dolphins do not exactly
act as undertakers^ they seem to have performed the
part of mourners.

The dolphin^ says Athensus (Lib. 13. Cap. 8.),
is of all animals the fondest of men^ the most sen-
sible^ and one possessing the virtue of gratitude.
Phylarchus relates^ in his l^h fiook^ that Coir-
anus^ the Milesian^ seeing some fishermen who bad
caught a dolphin in their nets^ and were about to cut
him up^ gave them some money> and prevailed on
them to throw him back into the sea. Some time
after happening to be shipwrecked near Myconos, all
on board perished except Coiranus^ who was saved
by a dolphin. Coiranus died when an old man^ in
his own country ; and the funeral happening to take
place on the shore^ by Miletus^ a great number of
dolphins appeared in the harbour on that day^ and
swam at a little distance along the shore after those
who attended the funeral^ joinings as it were^ the
procession^ as mourners^ and attending on the funeral
of the man.

Pliny mentions a pretty anecdote of the friendship
existing between a boy and a dolphin^ which seems
to have been a favourite tale^ as it is also related both
by iElian and Aulus Gellius.

Connor Crowe will be recognised by those ac-
quainted with the county Clare^ as a faithful sketch
from nature. The Blue Man's Lake mentioned in his
MiUloquy is situated in the Bog of Shragh, about four

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

miles from Kilmsh. It is so named from the tradi-
don^ that a spectral figure enveloped in a bluish flame
haunts its melancholy waters.

Durfiitta, the name of the sea-king's daughter^ who
married Flory Cantillon's ancestor^ signifies leaping-
water. " Gnawing white toothed waves" is the literal
translation of a common Irish epithet.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE SOUL CAGES.

Jack Doohbrtt lived on the coast of the
county Clare. Jack was a fisherman^ as his fa-
ther and grandfather before him had been. Like
them^ toio, he lived all alone (but for the wife),
and just in the same spot. People used to wonder
why the Dogherty family were so fond of that
wild situation, so far away from all human kind,
and in the midst of huge shattered rocks, with
nothing but the wide ocean to look upon. But
they had their own good reasons for it.

The place was just the only spot on that part
of the coast where any body could well live;
there was a neat little creek, where a boat might
lie as snug as a puffin in her nest, and out from
this creek a ledge of sunken rocks ran into the
Now when the Atlantic, accd'ding to cus-
I ^as raging with a storm, and a good west-
"' "vas blowing strong on the coast, many
'^ ship went to pieces on these rocks;
itte bales of cotton and tobacco, and
\ ^ and the pipes of wine, and the

i

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE SOUL CAGES. 81

puacheoiis of ruixi, and the casks of brandy^ aud
the. kegs of Hollands that used to come ashore!
Dunheg.Baj was juf(t like a little estate to the:
Doghertys.

Not but they were kind and humane to a dis-
tressed sailor^ if ever one had the good luck to
get to land ; and many a time indeed did Jack put
out in his little corragk (which^ though not quite
equal to honest Andrew Hennessy's canvas life-
boat^ would breast the billows like any gannet),
to lend a haifd towards bringing off the crew
from a wreck. But when the ship had gone . to
pieces^ and the crew were all lost^ who would
blame Jack for picking up all he could find ?

" And who is the worse of it?" said he. "For
as to the king, God bless him ! every body knows
he 's rich enough already without getting what 's
floating in the sea."

Jack^ though such a hermit^ was a goodnatured
joUy fellow. No other, sure, could ever have
coaxed Biddy Mahony to quit her father's snug
and warm house in the middle of the town of
Ennis, and to go so many miles off to live among
the rocks, with the seals and sea gulls for next
door neighbours* But Biddy knew that Jack was
. the man for a woman who wished to be comfort*
able and happy; for, to say nothing of the fis^^
Jack had the supplying of half /the gentlemen^s

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

32 THE SOUL CAGES*

houses of the countiy with the Godsends that
came into the hay. And she was right in her
choice ; for no woman ate^ drank^ or slept hetter^
or made a prouder appearance at chapel on Sun-
days^ than Mrs. Dogherty.

Many a strange sights it may well he supposed^
did Jack see^ and many a strange sound did he
hear^ but nothing daunted him. So far was he
from being afraid of Merrows, or such beings^
that the veiy first wish of his heart was to fairly
meet with one. Jack had heard Wiat they were
mighty like Christians^ and that luck had always
come out of an acquaintance with them. Never^
. therefore, did he dimly discern the Merrows
moving along the face of the waters in their robes
of mist, but he made direct for them ; and many
a scolding did Biddy, in her own quiet way, be-
stow upon Jack for spending his whole day out
at sea, and bringing home no fish. Little did
poor Biddy know the fish Jack was after !

It was rather annoying to Jack, that, though
living in a place where the Merrows were as
plenty as lobsters, he never could get a right view
of one. What vexed him more was that both
his father and grandfather had often and often
seen them; and he even remembered hearing,
when a child, how his grandfather, who was
the first of the family that had settled down at

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE SOUL CAGES. 33

the creek^ had been so intimate with a Merrow,
that only for fear of vexing the priest, he would
have had him stand for one of his children.
This, however. Jack did not well know how to
-believe.

Fortune at length began to think that it was
only right that Jack should know as much as
:his father and grandfather did. Accordingly, one
day when he had strolled a little farther than
usual alon^^e coast to the northward, just as
he turned a point, he sa^ something, like to no-
rthing he had ever seen before, perched upon a
xock at a little distance out to sea: it looked
green in the body, as well as he could discern at
that distance, and he would have sworn, only the
thing was impossible, that it had a cocked hat in
its hand. Jack stood for a good half hour strain-
ing his eyes and wondering at it, and all the time
the thing did not stir hand or foot. At last Jack's
patience was quite worn out, and he gave a loud
Whistle and a hail, when the Merrow (for such it
wais) started up, put the cocked hat on its head,
and dived ddwn, head foremost, irom the rock.

Jack's curiosity was now expited, and he con-
stantly directed his steps towards the point ; still
he could never get a glimpse of the sea gentle-
man with the cocked hat; and with thinking

PART II. D

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

34 TH£ SOUL CAGES.

and tHinking about the matter. He began at last
to fancy he had been only dreaming. One very
rough day, however, when the sea was running
mountains high. Jack Dogherty determined to
give a look at the Merrow's rock (for he had al-
ways chosen a fine day before), and then he saw
the strange thing cutting capers upon the top of
the rock, and then diving down, and then eomiilg
up, and then diving down again.

Jack had now only to choose hiAme (that is,
a good blowing day), and he might see the man
of the sea as often as he pleased. All this, how*
ever, did not satisfy him — f^ much wUl have
more;" he wished now to get acquainted with
the Merrow, and even in this he succeeded. Qne
tremendous blustering day, before he got to the
point, whence he had a view of the Merrow's
rock, the storm came on so furiously that Jack
was obliged to take shelter in one of the caves
which are so numerous along the coast; and
there, to his astonishment, he saw sitting before
him a thing with green hair, long green teeth, a
red nose, and pig's eyes. . It had a fish's tail, legs
with scales on them, and short arms like fins : it
wore no clothes, but had the cocked hat under its
arm, and seemed engaged thinking very seriously
about something.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE SOUL CAGES. 35

Jack^ with all his courage^ was a little daunted ;
but now or never, thought he : so up he went
bcddly to the cogitating fishman^ took off his hat^
and made his best bow.

" Your servant, sir/' said Jack.

" Your servant^skindly. Jack Dogherty," an-
swered the Merrow.

* '^ To be sure, then, how well your honour
knows my name !" said Jack.

** Is it I ^ know your name. Jack Bogherty ?
Why, man, I knew your grandfather long before
he was married to Judy Regan, your grand-
mother! Ah, Jack, Jack, I was fond of that
grandfather of yours; he was a mighty worthy
man in his time : I never met his match above or
below, before or since, for sucking in a shellful
of brandy. I hope, my boy," said the old fellow,
with a merry twinkle in his little eyes, '* I hope
you 're his own grandson !"

*' Never fear me for that," said Jack ; '^ if my
mother had only reared me on brandy, 'tis myself
that would be a sucking infant to this hour !"

*' Well, I like to hear you talk so manly ; you
and I must be better acquainted, if it were only
for your grandfather's sake. But, Jack, that fa-
ther of yours was not the thing; he had no head
ataU."

'* I 'm sure,*' said Jack, " since your honour

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

S6 THE SOUL cages;

* lives down under the water,, you must be obliged
to drink a powjer to keep any beat in you in such
a cruel, damp, could place. Well, I've often
heard of Christians drinking like * fishes : and
might I be so bold as to ask where you get the
spirits ?"

'' Where do you get them, yourself. Jack ?"
said the Merrow, twitching his red nose between
his forefinger and thumb.

" Hubbubboo," cries Jack, '^ noil^ see how it
is ; but I suppose, sir, your honour has got a fine
dry cellar below to keep them in."

" Let me alone for the cellar," said the Mer-
row, with a knowing wink of his left eye.

*' I 'm sure," continued Jack, " it must be
mighty well worth the looking at."

" You may say that. Jack," said the Merrow ;
'^ and if you meet me here, next Monday, just at
this time of the day, we will have a little more
talk with one another about the matter."

Jack and the Merrow parted the best friends
in the world.

.On Monday they met, and Jack was not a
little surprised to see that the Merrow had two
cocked hats with him, one under each arm.

" Might I take the liberty to ask, sir," said
Jack, "why your honour has brought the two
hats with you to-day ? You would not, sure, be

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE SOUL CAGES, 37

going to give me one of them, to keep for the
curosity of the thing ?"

'^ No, no. Jack/' said he, " I don't get my hats
so easily, to part with them that way; hut I
want you to come down and dine with me, and
I brought you the hat to dive with."

" Lord bless and preserve us !" cried Jack, in
amazement, *' would you want me to go down to
the bottom of the salt sea ocean ? Sure I 'd be
smothered itdi choked up with the water, to say
nothing of being drowned! And what would
poor Biddy do for me, and what would she say ?"

^'And what matter what she says, you pin"
keen? Who cares for Biddy's squalling? It's
long before your grandfather would have talked
in that way. Many's the time he stuck that
same hat on his head, and dived down boldly after
me ; an^ many 's the snug bit of dinner and good
shellful of brandy he and I have had together
below, under the water."

" Is it really, sir, and no joke ?" said Jack ;
'* why, then, sorrow from me for ever and a day
after, if I 'U be a bit worse man nor my grand-
father was ! Here goes — ^but play me fair now.
Here 's neck or nothing !" cried Jack.

'^ That 's your grandfather all over," said the
old fdlow; ''so come along then, and do as
I do."

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

38 THE SOUL CAGES.

They both left the cave^ walked into the sea,
and then swam a piece until they got to the rock.
The Merrow climbed to the top of it, and Jack
followed him. On the far side it was as straight
as the wall of a house, and the sea beneath looked
so deep that Jack was almost cowed.

" Now, do you see. Jack," said the Merrow :
^^just put this hat on your head, and mind to
keep your eyes wide open. 'Take hold of my tail,
and follow after me, and you '11 see^hat you '11

In he dashed, and in dashed Jack after him
boldly. They went and they went, and Jack
thought they 'd never stop going. Many a time
did he wish himself sitting at home by the fireside
with Biddy. Yet, where was the use of wishing
now, when he was so many miles as he thought
below the waves of the Atlantic ? Still he held
hard by the Merrow's tail, slippery as it was;
and, at last, to Jack's great surprise, they got out
of the water, and he actually found himself on dry
land at the bottom of the sea. They landed just
in front of a nice house that was slated very neatly
with oyster shells ! and the Merrow turning abou>
to Jack, welcomed him down.

Ja^k could hardly speak, what with wonder,
and what with being out of breath with tra-
velling so fast through the water. He looked

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE SOUL CAGES. 89

about him and could see no living things^ barring
crabs and lobsters, of which there were plenty
talking. leisurely about on the sand. Overhead
was the sea like a sky^ and the fishes like birds
swimming about in it.

^^ Why don't you speak^ man?" said the Mer-
row : " I dare say you had no notion that I had
mi6h a snug little concern here as this ? Are you
%mothered^ or choked^ or drowned^ or are you
fretting aftir Biddy, eh?"

^^Oh ! not myself, indeed," said Jack, showing
his teeth with a good-humoured grin: — ^'but
who in the world would ever have thou^t of
seeing such a thing ?"

'^ Well, come along and let 's see what they 've
got for us to eat?"

Jack reaUy was hungry, and it gave him no
ismall pleasure to perceive a fine column of smoke
rising from the chimney, announcing what was
going on within. Into the house he followed the
Merrow, and there he saw a good kitchen^ right
well provided with every thing. There was a
noble dresser, and plenty of pots and pans, with
two young Merrows cooking. His host then led
him into the room^ which was furnished shabbily
enough. Not a table or a chair was there in it;
nothing but planks and Ipgs of wood to. sit on,
suftd eat off. There was, however, a good fire

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

40 THE SOUL CAGES.

Uazing on tbe hearth-^-a comfortable sight to
Jack.

'^ Come now, and I '11 show you where I keep
— 70U know what/' said the Merrow, with a sly
look ; and opening a little door, he led Jack into a
fine long cellar well filled with pipes, and kegs,
and hogsheads, and barrels.

" What do you say to that. Jack Dogherty ? —
£h !-^may be a body can't live snug under the
water?"

*' Never the doubt of that," said Jack, with a
convincing smack of his under lip, that he really
thought what he said.

They went back to the room, and found dinner
laid. There was no table-doth, to be sure — but
what matter ? It was not always Jack had one
at home. The dinner would have been no dis-
credit to the first house of the county on a fast
day. The choicest of fish, and no wonder, was
there. Turbots, and soles, and lobsters, and oysters,
and twenty other kinds were on the planks at
once, and plenty of the best of foreign ifurits^
The wines, the old fellow sa^ ^i' ■

his stomach.

Jack ate and drank tij
then taking up a sbeil of \
honour's good health, i
begging your pai"^

THE SOUL CAGES. 41

as we 've been acquainted, I don't know your
mane yet."

'• That's true. Jack," replied be; "I nc^er
thought of it before, but better late than never.
My name 's Coomara."

** And a mighty decent name it is," cried Jack,
tmking another shellftil : ** here \ to your good
health, Coomara, and may you live these ftfty
yaavs to oome !"

''Fifty years!" repeated Coomara; 'Mm
obliged to you, indeed! If you had said five
hundred, it would have been fomething worth
thm willing/'

'* By the laws, sir," cries Jack, '' youz live to a
powerful great age here under the water ! You
lu>«w my grand&ther, and he's dead and gone
^>0^ter than these sixty years. I 'm sure it must
be a mighty healthy place to live in."

'' No doubt of it ; l^t come. Jack, keep the
^^qworttinrlng." SheU after sheU did they empty.

thiiiHi which Itritf thMr

42 THE SOUL CAGES.

Humfum boodle boo, .

Ripple dipple nitty dob ;
Dum doo doodle c6o,

Baffle laffle chittibob !

It was the cHorus to one of them ; and to say the
truth, nobody that* I know has ever been able to
pick any particular meaning out of it ; but that^
to be sure, is the case with many a song now'^i-
days.

At length said he to Jack, " Now, my dear boy,
if you follow me, I '11 show you my curosities r
He opened a little door and led Jack into a large
iroom, where Jack saw a great many odds and
ends that Coomara had picked up at one time or
another. What chiefly took his attention, how-
ever, were things like lobster pots ranged on the
ground along the wall,

" Well, Jack, how do you like my curosities ?"
said old Coo.

" Upon my sorvkins, sir," said Jack, " they 're
mighty well worth the looking at ; but might I
make so bold as to ask what these things like
lobster pots are ?"

'' Oh ! the Soul Cages, is it ?"

" The what ? Sir !"

^/ These things here that I keep the Souls in.''

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

J

THE SOUL CAGES. 43

" Arrah I what Souls, sir ?" said Jack in
amazement : " sure the fish have got no souls in
them?"

'' Oh ! no/' replied Coo, quite coolly, " that
they have not ; but these are the souls of drowned
sailors."

" The Lord preserve us from all harm !" mut-
tered Jack, " how in the world did you get
them ?"

'^ Easily enough : I 've only when I see a good
s|brm coming on, to set a couple of dozen of these,
4nd then, when the sailors are drowned and the
s^uls get out of them under the Water, the poor
things are almost perished to death, not being
used" to the cold ; so they make* into my pots for
belter, and then I have them snug, and fetch
them home, and keep them here dry and warm ;
and is it not well for them poor souls to get into
SHch good quarters ?"

Jack was so thunderstruck, he did not know
what to say, so he said nothing. They went
b^ck into the dining-room and had a little more
brandy, which was excellent, and then as Jack
knew that it must be getting late, and as Biddy
might be uneasy, he stood up, and said he thought
it was time for him to be on the road.
. " Just as you like. Jack," said Coo, *' but take

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

44 THE SOUL CAGES.

a due an durrus before you go ; you 've a colil
journey before you."

Jack knew better manners than to refuse the
parting glass. '^ I wonder/' said he^ '^ will I be
able to make out my way home ?"

'' What should aU you," said Coo, « when I '11
show you the way ?

Out they went before the house, and Coomara
took one of the cocked hats, and put it upon
Jack's head the wrong way, and then lifted him
up on his shoulder that he might launch him up
into the water.

'^ Now," says he, giving him a heave, " you '11
come up just in the same spot you came down in,
and. Jack, mind and throw me back the hat."

He canted Jack off his shoulder, and up he
shot like a bubble — whirr, whirr, whiz — away he
went up through the water, till he came to the
very rock he had jumped off, where he found a
landing-place, and then in he threw the hat,
which sunk like a stone.

The sun was just going down in the beautiful
sky of a calm summer's evening. Feascor was
seen dimly twinkling in the cloudless heaven,
a solitary star, and the waves of the Atlantic
flashed in a golden flood of light. So Jack, per-
ceiving it was late, set off home ; but when he got

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE SOUL CAGES. 45

there^ not a word did he say to Biddy of where he
had spent his day.

The state of the poor Souls cooped up in the
lohster pots gave Jack a great deal of trouble^
and how to release them cost him a great deal
of thought. He at first had a mind to speak to
the priest ahout the matter. But what could the
priest do^ and what did Coo care for the priest ?
Besides^ Coo was a good sort of an old fellow^ and
did not think he' was doing any harm. Jack had
a regard for him too^ and it also might not he
much to his own credit if it were known that he
usied to go dine with Merrows. On the whole,
he thought his hest plan would he to ask Coo to
dinner, and to make him drunk, if he was ahle,
and then to take the hat and go down and turn
up the pots. It was first of all necessary, how-
ever, to get Biddy out of the way; for Jack was
prudent enough, as she was a woman, to wish to
keep the thing secret from her.

Accordingly, Jack grew mighty pious all of a
sudden, and said to Biddy, that he thought it
would he for the good of hoth of their souls if she
was to go and take her rounds at Saint John's
Well, near Ennis. Biddy thought so too, and
accordingly off she s^t one fine morning at day
dawn, giving Jack a strict charge to have an eye
to the place*

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

46 THE SOUL CAGES.

The coast being dear^ away went Jack to the
rock to give the appointed signal to Coomara^
which was throwing a big stone into the water.
Jack threw, and up sprang Coo !

'^ Good morrow. Jack/' said he ; *' what do you
want with me?"

" Just nothing at all to speak about, sir/' re-
turned Jack, '^ only to come and take a bit of
dinner with me, if I might make so free as to ask
you, and sure I 'm now after doing so."

" It 's quite agreeable, Jack, I assure you ;
what 's your hour ?"

'' Any time that 's most convenient to you, sir
—say one o'clock, that you may go home, if you
wish, with the day-light."

^^ I 'H be with you," said Coo, '' never fear me."

Jack went home, and dressed a noble iish
dinner, and got out plenty of his best foreign
spirits, enough for that matter to make twenty
men drunk. Just to the minute came Coo, with
his cocked hat under his arm. Dinner was ready
— they sat down, and ate and drank away man-
fully. Jack thinking of the poor Souls below in
the pots, plied old Coo well with brandy and en-
couraged him to sing, hoping to put him under
the table, but poor Jack forgot that he had not the
sea over his own head to keep it cool. The brandy
got into it and did his business for him, and Coo

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

TfIR 80UL CAGE8. 47

reeled off home, leaving his entertainer as dumb
ail a haddock on a Good Friday.

Jack nerer woke till th» next morning, and
then he was in a lad way. " 'Tif to no uie for
me thinking to make that old Rapparee drunk/'
iiaid Jack, *' and how in thii world can I help the
poor Souli out of the lobster pots }" After ru-
minating nearly the whole day, a thought struck
him. " I have it," says he, slapping his knee ;
" I '11 be sworn that Coo never saw a drop of
poieen as old as he is, and that's the thing to
settle him 1 Oh ! then is not it well that Biddy
will not be home these two days yet ; I can have
another twist at him/'

Jack asked Coo again, and Coo laughed at him
lor having no better head, telling him, he 'd never
come up to his grandfather.

" Well, but try me again," said Jack, " and
I 'U be bail to drink you drunk and sober, and
drunk again."

" Any thing in my power," said Coo, " to

ft'

Atil.i . ■

1 , Jock lottk earnj in have hii tmn

[tiiir wAl VtW

I^M^^Bl tit giic fW

aimIV Ki luid Ej

^^^^^t.hmlt tMVii

rvoif g^^rnnY-^Muy i''i

48 THE SOUL CAGES.

'^ No/' says .Coo ; '^ what *s that, and where
does it come from ?"

'^ Oh, that's a secret," said Jack, " but it's the
right sfuff — never believe me again, if 'tis not
fifty times as good as brandy or rum either.
Biddy's brother just sent me a present of a little
drop, in exchange for some brandy, and as you 're
an old friend of the family, I kept it to treat you
with."

'^ Well, let 's see what sort of thing it is," said
Coomara.

The poteen was the right sort. It was first
rate, and had the real smack upon it. Coo was
delighted; he drank and he sung. Rum hum.
hoodie hoo over and over again ; and he laughed
and he danced till he fell on the floor fast asleep.
Then Jack, who had' taken good care, to keep
himself sober, snapt up the cocked hat — ran off
to the rock — ^leaped in, and soon arrived at Coo's
habitation.

All was as still as a church-yard at midnight —
not a Merrow old or young was there. In he
went and turned up the pots, but nothing did he
see, only he heard a sort of a little whistle or
chirp as he raised each of them. At this he
was surprised, till he recollected what the priest
had often said, that nobody livitig could see the

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE 80UI. GACK8. 49

acNiI> no Aioce fchiA thex coold flee Ik wind or die
air ! Haying mam done all diat be ooold do for
tltem, he set the pola at diej were bc^oRi, and
sent a bLefldng after the poor wok, tm wpeei. Aem
on their joomej whezever ihej wcne ^an^- ^ack
now b^an to think of reComing ; he fat Ae haft
on, as was ri^t, the wrang way; hut whcm he
got out, he found the water m h^ cwcr his head,
that he had no hopes of ever gettiBg np aafeo it,
now that he had not old CooBam to giie him
a lift. He walked aboat lodldxkg far a ladder,
but not one could he find, and not a rack was
there in si^t. At last he saw a ipot whcne dc
sea hung rather lower than anj where At, aa he
resolved to try there. Just as he cnne to it, a
big cod happened to pnt down his taiL Jack
made a jump and cau^t hold of it, aad the end,
all in amazement, gave a bonnoe and paOed Jadk
up. The minute the hat toodied the water, pop
away Jack was whisked, and np he dot like a
cork, dragging the poor cod, that he forffft to let
go, up with him, tail forefiiost. He got to the
Tock. in no time, and without a moment's dday
hurried home, rejoicing in the good deed he had
done. But, meanwhile, there was fine work at
home; for our friend Jack had hardly left the
house on his soul-freeing expedition, when bade
came Biddy from her soul-saying one to the welL

PART II. E

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

50 THE SOUL CAGES.

When she entered the house and saw the things
lying thrie^na helah on the tahle before her^

" Here 's a pretty job !" said she — ^' that black-
guard of mine — what ill-luck I had ever to marry
him ! He has picked up some vagabond or other^
while I was praying for the good of his soul^ and
they 've been drinking all the poteen that my own
brother gave him^ and all the spirits^ to be sure^
that he was to have sold to his honour." — Then
hearing an outlandish kind of grunt^ she looked
down^ and saw Coomara lying under the table. —
" The blessed Virgin help me," shouted she, ** if
he has not made a real beast of himself ! Well,
well, I 've often heard of a man making a beast
of himself with drink ! — Oh hone — oh hone — ^Jack,
honey, what will I do with you, or what will I
do without you? How can any decent woman
ever think of living with a beast ?" —

With such like lamentations Biddy rushed out
of the house, and was going, she knew not where,
when ^e heard the well-known voice of Jack
singing a merry tune. Glad enough was Biddy
to find him safe and sound, and not turned into
a thing that was like neither fish nor fiesh. Jack
was obliged to tell her all, and Biddy, though
she had half a mind to be angry with him for not
telling her before^ owned that he had done a great
service to the poor souls. Back they both went

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE SOUL CAiS^ES. 51

most lovingly to the house^ and Jack wakened up
Ooomara ; and perceiving the old fellow to be ra^
ther dull, he bid him not be cast down, for 'twas
many a good man's case ; said it all came of his
not being used to the poteen, and recommended
him, by way of cure, to swallow a hair of the dog
that bit him. Coo, however, seemed to think he
had had quite enough : he got up, quite out of
sorts, and without having the manners to say one
word in the way of civility, he sneaked off to cool
himself by a jaunt through the salt water.

Goomara never missed the souls. He and Jack
continued the best friends in the world, and no
one, perhaps, ever equalled Jack at freeing soul$
from purgatorj^ ; for he contrived fifty excuses for
getting into the house below the sea, unknown to
the old fellow, and then turning up the pots a;id
letting out the souls. It vexed him, to be sure,
that he could never see them ; but as he knew the
thing to be impossible, he was obliged to be sa-
tisfied.

Their intercourse continued for several years.
However, one morning, on Jack's throwing in a
stone as usual, he got no answer. He fiung an-
other, and anqther ; still there was no reply. He
went away, and returned the following morn-
ing, but it waa \o no purpose. As he was with-
out the hat, he could not go down to see what had

s2

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

32 THE. SQUL CAG£S.

become of old Coo> but bis belief was^ tbat the old
man, or tbe old fisb, or wbatever be was, bad
eitber died, or bad removed away from tbat part
of tbe country.

In Grimm's Deutcke Sagan, tbere is a story whicb
has a striking resemblance to tbe foregoing ; and it is
accurately translated for tbe sake of comparison.

A waterman once lived on good terms with a pea-
sant, who dwelt not far from bis lake; be often
visited bim, and at last begged tbat tbe peasant would,
in return, visit bim in bis bouse under tbe water.
The peasant consented, and went with bim. Tbere
was every thing below, in tbe water, as in a stately
palace on tbe land,^balls, chambers, and cabinets,
with costly fturniture of every description. Tbe wa-
terman led bis guest through tbe whole, and showed
bim every thing that was in it. They came at length
to a little chamber, where there were standing several
new pots turned upside down. Tbe peasant asked what
was in them. " They contain," said he, " the souls of
drowned people which I put under tbe pots, and keep
them close so that they cannot get away." The pea-
sant said nothing, and came up again on the land.
The affkir of tbe souls caused bim much uneasiness
for a long time, and be watched till the waterman
should be gone out. When this happened, tbe pea-

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

I'Hfi SOtTL CAGES. 58

feant who had marked the right road dowii> descended
into the water-house^ and succeeded in finding again
the little chamber ; and when he was there^ he turned
up all the pots^ one after another; immediately the
souls of the drowned men ascended out of the water,
and were again at liberty.

Grliiim d&ys that he was told the waterman is like
any other man, only that when he opens his mouth,
his green teeth may be seen ; he also Wears a green
hat> and appears to the girls, as they go by the lake
he dwells in, measures out ribbon and flings it to
them.

Dunbeg Bay is situated on the coast of ^e county
CIttre, and may be readily found on any itaap of Ire*
land. Corragh, or currugh, is a small boat used by
the fishermen of that part, and is formed of cow
hides, or pitched cloth, strained on a frame of wicker^
work. The boldness and confident^ «f the nayigatore
of these fragile vessels often* surprises the sfrangeft
By the Ii^h poets they are invariably termed broad*
chested or- strong-bowed corraghs; ^' Curraghatme
auUn cleavorshin/' as it is prohounced. It is Hkecaro*
buiot the laterLatin writers,- thus' described by Isidore :
Carabtts, parva sdkpha 6x ^ftiinefacta, qnie oontexttf
crudo eorio genus naryigii pnebet;''-««l8idoru8, 'Mg<
I. xviii. c. 1. It is ^ao described in some pleasing
verses by Festus Avieilu&^ Gme^ nApahs, see Suidas
andEt. Mag.

Of honest Andrew flei^essy's canvais life^bofiit it Is
mty neeessary to state, thati the inventor, ^th a crew

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

84 1:he soul CAOEff.

of five scfamen^ weathered the equinoctial gale of Ocl-^^
tober 1825 (the severest remembered for many years),
in an experimental passage from Cork to Liverpool.
After so convincing a trial, it is to be regretted that
Mr. Hennessy and his plans for the preservation of
human life have not experienced more attention.

St. John's Well, whither Mrs. Dc^herty journeyed
to take her rounds, lies at the foot of a hill, about
three miles from £nnis, and dose to it is a rude altar,
at which the superstitious offer up their prayers.
The water of this, like other holy wells, is believed
to possess the power of restoring the use of the limbs,
<^ing defective vision, &c. Near the well there is a
small lough, said to be the abode of a strange kind
of fish or mermaid, which used to appear very fre-
quently. This lady of the lake was observed resorting
to the cellar of Newhall, the seat of Mr. M^onall.
The butler, perceiving the wine decrease rapidly,
determined, with some of his fellow-servants, to
watch for the thief, and at last they caught the mer-
maid in the fact of drinking it. The enraged butler
threw her into a chaldron of boiling water, when
she vanished, after uttering three piercing shrieks,
leaving only a mass of jelly behind. Since that pe-
riod, her appearances have been restricted to once in
every seven years.

Merrows are said to be as fond of wine as snakes
are of milk, and for the sake of it to steal on board of
fthips in the ni^t time. Pausanias tells us, that the
citizens of Tanagra were greatly annoyed by a Triton.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE SOUL CAGES. 55

who frequented the neighbouring coast. By the ad-
vice of the oracle^ they set a large vessel of wine on
the beach^ which the Triton emptied on his next visit ;
the liquor made him drunk, and the citizens cut off
his head as he slept.

Coomara or cu-mara, means the sea-hound. The
Irish family of Macnamara or Maconmara are, ac-
cording to tradition, descended from cdmara, and
hence their name from ttmic a son, con the genitive of
cu a greyhound, and mara of the sea.

The Macnamara clan inhabited the western district
of the county Clare, and were dependant on the
O'Briens.

Cumara's song, if indeed it be not altogether the
invention of the narrator, may be considered as an
extremely curious lyrical fragment. But few will feel
inclined to acknowledge its genuineness, as nothing
appears to be more easy than to fabricate a short
efi^sion of this kind, or even an entire language.
Psalmanazar's Formosan language is well known.
Rabelais abounds in specimens. Shakespeare, in
^< All's well that ends well," has tried his hand at it.
Swift has given some morsels of Lilipi]^an, Brobdlg-
nagian, and other tongues ; and any one curious about
fairy language has only to look into Giraldus Cam-
brensis. Even the inhabitants of the lower regions
have had a dialect invented for them, as the following
valuable extract from the Macaronica of the profound
Merlinus Cocaius will prove. See the opening of the
xxiy. book :

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

66 THE SOUL CAGES.

'^ Cra era tif traftioit sgneflet canatanta ri<^a
Eoee veDit gridando Charon--''

which^ in a marginal note^ he kindly informs us —
*' nee Graecum nee Hehrseam^ sed dlabolieum est."
And perhaps even the well known line of Dante^ of
which it is an imitation—

'^ Pape Satan, pape Satan Alepp^,"

is nee Latinumy-nec Heibneum, sed diabolieum, also.

A translation of old Oa^ song^ however^ it is ex-
pected, would add little to our stock, of knowledge, as,
judging from the indubitaUa specimens which exist,
the remarks of the sea folk are not very profound,
althovigh they evince singular powers of observation.
; Waldron, in hisaecovrnt 0f the isle of Man, relates
that an amphibious damsel^ was once oangfat, .and after
remaining three days on diore was^allowed to escape.
On pUingiiig into the water die was welcomed by a
number of her own >speciesi who were heard to in-
quire what. she had seen ammig the natiycs of earth.
•^^< Nothing," she answered^ '^wonderful, except
that they were* silly enough to throw away the water
in which they.had boiled their eggai"

Boebart* tells -us, on 'the auidiority of Alkazuinlus^
•an Arabic, author, tiiat there is a sea^nimal which
exactly resembles anuinyonly that he has a tail; he
hadf .moreover, a grey beard; hence he is called the
old man ofdie^eai' O^iot ttpo»«»4mieone of them
was brought to a certain king, who, out of ^mriosity,
gave him a wife. Tl^ey had a 8on wbo^ could speak

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE SOUL CACBS. 57

thetaBg^csofbodiiysiMHreiita. Th^ boy wis asked
one day what his father said ; hut a» ihe reply moat
necoBssrily lose hj translatkm^ it is girai in the ori-
ginal Gredt. He answered, ^ Ti» marifa xSav eavfxa^tn

On the Irishisms used in the Legend of '^ the Soiil
Cages" a few words. Arrah is a common exclamation
of surprise. It is correctly written ara, and, aooovd*
ing to Dr. O'Brien, signifies a conference. A pofmlair
phrase is, ^' Arrah come here now/' i. e. come here
and let us talk over the matter.

Due an Durras, Anglic^, the stirrap cap, mtena
literally, the drink at the door ; from Deoch^ to diinfc,
and Doras or Dufxu, sl door. In Devonshire and Corn^
wallit i&palled Dash andDarrat, prohaUy a conniption
of the old Cornish expression.

Bapparee was the name giv^ to certain fineebooters
in the times of James and William. It is used in the
stovyradier as a* term of.Teg8Bd,aawe sometimes em^
l^oy, the word rogue.

Thrie^wx>4uilah may be trnndated by the Sag^
word topsy-turvey.

Pifdecen-mxAkSaufkin are diminutivca ; the fimner of
Penk ov Fink,, theiname, of the littte fish more, eom-
monly called in England, Minnow. Jhwkim is evi-
dently a contraction of Soulkin, the diminutive of soul.
It answers to the German Seelchen, and is an old En-
glish expression, no longer, it is believed, to be met
fvith in that country, but very common as a minor
(Mith in Ireland.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

58 THE SOUL CAGES.

«

By the Laws, is^ as is well known ^ a softening down
of a very solemn asseyeration. If taken literally,
people may fancy it an oath not very binding in the
mouth of an Irishman^ who is seldom distinguished
by his profound veneration for the Statute Book.
This, however, only proves that law and justice in
Ireland: were essentially difierent things ; for sir John
Davies, himself a lawyer, remarked, long since, how
fond the natives were of justice ; and it is to be hoped
that a regular and impartial administration will speed-
ily impress them as synonimes on the minds of the
Irish peasantry.

Few need to be informed that the lower orders in
Ireland; although their tone is different, speak the
English language more grammatically than those of
the same rank in England. The word yez or youz af-
fords an instance of their attention to etymology ; for
as they employ you in speaking to a single person, ^
they naturally enough imagined that it should be em-
ployed in the plural when addressed to more than one.

** A hair of the dog that bit him," is the common
recommendation of aii old toper to a young one, on the
morning after a debauch.

'' Shall we pluck a hair of the same wolf to-day.
Proctor John?"— Ben Jonsons^ Bartholomew Fair,
Act 1. Scene 1.

dbyGoOg

THE LORD OP DUNKERRON.

The lord of Dunkerron — O'Sullivan More/
Why seeks lie at midnight the sea-beaten shore ?
His bark lies in haven^ his hounds are asleep ;
No foes are abroad on the land or the deep.

Yet nightly the lord of Dunkerron is known
On the wild shore to watch and to wander alone ;
For a beautiful spirit of ocean, 'tis said.
The lord of Dunkerron would win to his bed.

When, by moonlight, the Waters were hush'd to

repose.
That beautiful spirit of ocean arose ;
Her hair, fiill of lustre, just floated and fell
O'er her bosom, that heaved with a billowy swell.

Long, long had he loved her — long vainly essay'd
To lure from her dwelling the coy ocean maid ;
And long had he wander'd and watck'd by the tidd.
To claim the fair spirit O'SuUivan's bride !

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

60 THE LOBD OF DUNKEBBON.

The maiden slie gazed on the creature of earthy
Whose voice in her breast to a feeling gave birth :
Then smiled ; and abashed^ as a maiden might be^
Looking down, gently sank to her home in the sea.

Though gentle that smile, as the moonlight above^
O'Sullivan felt 'twas the dawning of love.
And hope came on hope, spreading over his mind.
As the eddy i^cirdes her wake left behind.

The lord of D^i&enon he plunged in the waves.
And sought, through the fierce rush of waters,

their caves ;
The gloom of whose depths, studdied over with

spars.
Had the^ glitter of midiiight when lit up by stars.

Who can tell or can fancy the treasutes that sleep
Intombed in the wonderful womb of the deep ?
The peieurls and the gems^ as if valueless, thrown
To lie'mid the sea-wittck concealed &6d unknown.

Down, down went the maid, — still the chieftain

pursued;
Who fiieff must be followed ere she can be wooed.
Untempted by treasures, unawed by alarms.
The maiden' at length' he haff daspt in his anns !

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE JU)AD OF BIFKKSKBaN. 61

They rose from Ae deep If a cmoolli-^pnMtiiig

8trand^
Whence beauty and verdure rtretch'd orer the land.
'Twas an isLe of enchantment ! and h^sdj tlie

breeze.
With a musical murmur, just crept thiODi^ the

trees.

The haze-woyen shroud of that newly hem kLe
Softly faded away, from a magical pOe,
A palace of crystal, whose hri^t-heaming theen
Had the tints jof the rainbow — red, yellow, and
green.

And grottoes, fantastic in hue and infonn.
Were there, as flung up— the wild sport of the

storm;
Yet all was so cloudless, to lovely, and calm.
It seemed but a region of sunshine and haha*

'' Here, here shall we dwell in a dream of delist.
Where the glories of earth and of ocean unite!
Yet, loved son ai earth ! I must from thee aw^ ;
There are laws which e'en spirits are bound to
obey!

'' Once more must I visit the chief of my race,
His sanction to gain ere I meet thy emfaraee*

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

62 THE LOBD OF DUNKEBRON.

In a moment I dive to the chambers beneath :
One cause can detain me— one only-— 'tis death !"

They parted in sorrow, with vows true and fond ;
The language of promise had nothing beyond.
His soul all on fire^ with anxiety bums :
The moment is gone— but no maiden returns.

What sounds from the deep meet his terrified ear^*
What accents of rage and of grief does he hear >
What sees he ? what change has come over the

flood—
What tinges its green with a jetty of blood?

Can he doubt what the gush of warm blood would

explain ?
That she sought the consent of her monarch in

vain! —
For see all around him, in white foam and frothy
The waves of the ocean boil up in their wroth !

The palace of crystal has melted in air.
And the dies of the rainbow no longer are there ;
The grottoes with vapour and clouds are o'ercast^
The sunshine is darkness — ^the vision has past !

Loud, loud was the call of his serfs for their chief;
They sought him with accents of Availing and grief:

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

Skdh^]

' IC^ M- rru; . • •^s

tiK fT^ SBi^ «■: ISK U^ JHI fr-. Ml - »f»

vent il0ipx. aiiiBt shl .«er jo*^ «Qt2c.««r t u<* ^
the Ink tp ^lar ksr jbbwe fc»- ----- '*'

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

64 THE LOBD OF DUNKSBRON.

wished to get the consent of her parents to her mar-
riage^ or to communioate the affiiir to her brothers.
However, instead of an answer, there only appeared
a spot of blood upon the water, a sign that she had
been put to death.

Mr. Barry St. Leger's tale of " the Nymph of the
Lurley," in his clever work, " Mr. Blount's MSS.,"
bears a striking resemblance to another tradition re*
lated of the O'SuUivan family^ and their strange in-
tercourse with the " spirits of the vasty deep;" par-
ticularly in. the circumstance of ihe attempt at.wound-*
ing the mermaid, and the fate of the person making it.

A well known Manx legend relates that a sea maiden
once carried off a beautiful youth, of whom she be^
came enamoured, to the Isle of Man, and conjured
up a mist around the island to prevent his escape ;
hence it has sometimes been called the Isle of Mists.
Mermaid love i^ an extremely common fiction, and
tales founded on it are abundant, although they con-
tain little variety of incident. In the Ballades et
Chants popukures de la Provence, lately published,
there is a very pretty tale " of La Fee aux Cheveux
Verts" who entices a fisherman to her palace beneath
the sea. The amour, as is generally the case with
fairy love, produces unhappy consequences.

The Annals of the Four Masters give us rather a
gigantic idea of mermaids, although expressly men-
tioning the delicacy and beauty of their skin. Ac-
cording to this veritable record (which Irish historians
are so fond of quoting as an authority), Pontoppidan's

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE LOEB OF DUNKERBON. 65

Norway Jciaken is not without a fair companion:
" A. D. 887. A mermaid of an enormous sixe was
cast on the north-east coast of Scotland by the sea :
her height was 195 feet; her hair was 18 feet; her
fingers 7 feet ; and her nose 7 feet : she was all over
as white as a swan."

FiH* an account of Dunkerron the reader is referred
to Smith's History of Kerry^ p. 88. The castle lies
about a mile below the town of Kenmare, on the west
sidd of the river. Its present remains are part of a
square keep^ and one side of a castellated mansion,
which probably adjoined the keep, and was built at a
more recent period. The Rev. Mr. Godfrey kindly
pointed out to the writer two rudely sculptured stones,
which had been removed from Dunkerron castle and
placed in the boat-house at Lansdown lodge. One of
these bears the following inscription :

T. H. S. MARIA
DEO OaATIAS

• THIS WORK
WAS MADE THE
XX OF APRIEL
1596: BY OWEN
OSULIVAN MORE

• •^ • D ONOGH
MAC CARTY RIEOOH.

The other, the O'Sullivan arms, in which a barbarous ,
attempt. to express the figure of a mermaid is evident
above the *' Manus SuUivanis.'*
In allusion to the galley which appears on the shield,

PART II.. F

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

66

THE LOBD OF DUNKEBBON.

it may be mentioned that a favourite name of the
O'Sullivana is Morty or^Murty (correctly written
Muircheartack or Mutrcheardach), which literally
means '^ expert at sea/' or an able navigator. Mur-
roughs a common Christian name of the O'Briens^ sig-
nifies '' the sea hound." Murphy, Murley, &c. have
doubtless a marine origin.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE WONDERFUL TUNE.

Maubiob Connor was the king, and that 's
no small word^ of all the pipers in Munster. He
could play jig and planxty without end^ and Ollis*
trum's March^ and the Eagle's Whistle, and the
Hen's Concert, and odd tunes of every sort and
kind. But he knew one, far more surprising than
the rest, which had in it the power to set every
thing dead or alive dancing.

In what way he learned it is heyond my know-
ledge, &r he was mighty cautious ahout telling
how he came hy so wonderful a tune. At the
very first note of that tune, the brogues b^;an
shaking upon the feet of all who heard it— old or
young, it mattered not — just as if their brogues
had the ague ; then the feet began going — going
— going from under them, and at last up and
away with them, dancing like mad .'-^whisking
here, there, and every where, like a straw in a
storm — there was no halting waRe the music
lasted !

Not a fair, nor a wedding, nor a patxou in

p2

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

68 THE WONDERFUL TUNE.

the seven parishes rounds was counted worth the
speaking of without ^' blind Maurice and his pipes."
His mother^ poor woman^ used to lead him about
from one place to another^ just like a dog.

Down through Iveragh — a place that ought to
be proud of itself, for 'tis Daniel O'Connel's coun-
try — Maurice Connor and his mother were taking
their rounds. Beyond all other places Iveragh is
the place for stormy coast and steep mountains :
as proper a spot it is as any in Ireland to get your-
self drowned, or your neck broken on the land,
should you prefer that. But, notwithstanding,
in BaUinskellig bay there is a neat bit of ground,
well fitted for diversion, and down from it, to-
wards the water, is a clean smooth piece of strand
— the dead image of a calm summer's sea on a
moonlight night, with just the curl of the small
waves upon it.

Here it was that Maurice's music had brought
from all parts a great gathering of the young men
and the young women — the darlints ! — for
'twas not every day the strand of Trafraska was
stirred up by the voice of a bagpipe. The dance
began ; and as pretty a rinkafadda it was as ever
was danced. ^^ Brave music," said every body,
" and well done," when Maurice stopped.

" More power to your elbow, Maurice, and a
fair wind in the bellows/' cried Paddy Dorman,

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

TIIR WOKDBRirUL TUNE. 09

a hump-backed dancing-maiter^ who waf there to
keep order. '' Tif s pity/' Mtid he, '' if we 'd let
the piper run dry after f uch muf ic ; 't would be a
disgrace to Iveragh, that didn't come oq, it finco
the week of the three Hundayi ." So, af well be-
came him, for he wai alwayi a decent man, layi
he : " Did you drink, piper ?"

'' I will, fir," gayi Maurice, anawering the ques-
tion on the lofe fide, for you never yet knew piper
or ichoolmaiter who refuied hif drink.

'' What will you drink, Maurice ?" nayi Paddy.

** I 'm no wayi particular," nayi Maurice ; ** I
drink any thing, and give God thankf, barring
raw water : but if 'tis all the same to you, mister
Dorman, may be you wouldn't lend me the loan
of a glass of whiskey."

'< I 've no glass, Maurice," said Paddy ; '' I 've
only the bottle."

** Let that be no hindrance," answered Maurice ;
" my mouth Just holds a glass to the drop ; often

i I*rtd4y Donimn iruHtcrj him with iht? bottle

wtui b» } irnd, Ui hJR vmi, he found

Mfuih m&|(Ut (uii fioltl more

niiCt yet, Dwing ti^ the hole

' t," • VH Mau-

3gle

" By the holy frost, then !" says Paddy, " 'tis
hut could comfort there 's in that hottle now ; and
^tis your word we must take for the strength of
the whiskey, for you 've left us no sample to judge
hy :" and to he sure Maurice had not.

Now I need not tell any gentleman or lady
with common understanding, that if he or she was
to drink an honest hottle of whiskey at one pull,
it is not at all the same thing as drinking a hottle
of water ; and in the whole course of my life, I
never knew more than five men who could do so
without heing overtaken hy the liquor. Of these
Maurice Connor was not one, though he had a
stiff head enough of his own — ^he was fairly tipsy.
Don't think I hlame him for it ; 'tis often a good
man's case ; hut true is the word that says, " when
liquor's in sense* is out;" and puff, at a hreath,
before you could say ^' Lord, save us !" out he
blasted his wonderful tune.

'Twas really then beyond all belief or telling
the dancing. JMaurice himself" could not keep
quiet I ita|Tgering now on one leg^ now on the
CFtbor, and rolling about like a ship m a cross Hea^
trying to humour the tune. There waa his mother
tooj mo via g her old bones m light m ih^ yoimgnt
girl of them all ; but he; dancing, aOif
dancing of all the rest, ia not vt'i»Hbv ilw *
about to the work that was g<

THE .WONDEBFCL TUNE. 71

the strand. Every inch of it covered with all
manner of fish jumping and plunging about to the
music^ and every moment more and more would
tumble in out of the water, charmed by the won-
derful tune. Grabs of monstrous sise spun round
and round on one daw with the nimUeness of a
dancing-master, a|id twirled and tossed their other
claws about like limbs that did not belong to them.
It was a sight surprising to behold. But perhaps
you may have heard of father Florence Conry, a
Franciscan friar, and a great Irish poet ; bolg an
ddina, as they used to call him — a wallet of poems.
If you have not, he was as pleasant a man as one
would wish to drink with of a hot summer's day ;
and he has rhymed out all about the dancing fishes
90 neatly, that it would be a thousand pities not
to give you his verses; so hera's my hand at an
upset of them into English :

The big seals in motion.
Like waves of the ocean.

Or gouty feet prancing.
Came heading the gay fish.
Crabs, lobsters, and cray fish,

Detennined on dancing.

The sweet soonds they foUow'd,
The fgujpikg cod swallow'd ;
TwM wonderful, really !

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

72 THE WONnEKFITL TUNE,

And turbot and flounder^
'Mid fish that were rounder.
Just capered as gaily.

John-dories came tripping ;
Dull hake by their skipping

To frisk it seem'd given ;
Bright mackrel went springing,
Like small rainbows winging

Their flight up to heaven.

The whiting and haddock
Left salt water paddock

This dance to be put in :
Where skate with flat faces
Edged out some odd plaices ;

But soles kept their footing.

Sprats and herrings in powers
Of silvery showers

All number out-number'd.
And great ling so lengthy
Were there in such plenty

The shore was encumber'd.

The scollop and oyster
Their two shells did roister.
Like castanets fitting ;

• Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THK WOSmUUFTX. TrKF. 13

WliUe liiqndb wm^v^ clmri^
And rotkt vay wmhIj

With hn^jbitat wtn i|iUnia|r<

Nerer was mch an nllalmHoo in ihiw wt«4«t hi^
f<iro or dnoe ; *tww ai if hfMrm and eaitii wr^r
<^<Kniiig tognher ; and all out of MauHcc dm*
nor'a wondciful tune!

In the height of all these doing*, what iliould
^ere be dancing among the outlandish »et of dfthmi
^t a beautiful jroung woman—an UeautiAil an the
dawn o£ day ! She had a cocked hat upon hw
nand; ftom under it her Imig green hair — juiit
ill* oolour of the iea— fell down hehind< without
hlndcnmee to her dancing. Her teeth were like
rowa of pearl ; her lipi for all the world lookeil
like rod coral ; and ihe hwl an elegant gown« m
white aa the foam of the wave, with little rows nf
purple and rod iea weedi nettled out U|)mi it ; fur
^tai never yet Naw a Iwdy, under the water or over

' " ' ' < '• 1 4 Mitll Jl IM III till "^MMkll

74 THE WONDERFUL TUNE.

'^ I 'm a lady of honour

Who live in the sea ;
Come down^ Maurice Connor^
' And be married to me.
Silver plates and gold dishes

You shall have^ and shall be
The king of the fishes^

When you 're married to me."

Drink was strong in Maurice's head> and out he
chaunted in return for her great civility. It is
not every lady^ may be^ that would be after making
such an offer to a blind piper; therefore 'twas
only right in him to give her as good as she gave
herself—so says Maurice^

'^ I 'm obliged to you^ madam :

Off a gold dish or plate^
If a king^ and I had 'em^

I could dine in great state.
With your own father's daughter

I 'd be sure to agree ;
But to drink the salt water

Wouldn't do so with tue !

The lady looked at him quite amazed^ and swing-

Digitized b^

THE WONDERFUL TUNE. 75

" Well/' tayu uhe, " Maurice, if you 're not a poet,
where if poetry to be found ^"

In thif way they kept on at it, framing high
compliment! ; one answering the other^ and their
feet going with the music ai fait ai their tonguef.
All the fish kept dancing too : Maurice heard the
clatter and was afraid to stop playing lest it might
be displeasing to the fish, and not knowing what
so many of them may take it into their heads to
do to him if they got vexed.

Well, the lady with the green hair kept on
coasdng of Maurice with soft speeches, till at last
she overpersuaded him to promise to marry her,
and be king over the fishes, great and small.
Maurice was well fitted to be their king, if they
wanted one that could make them dance ; and he
surely would drink, barring the lalt water, with
any fish of them all.

When Maurice's mother saw him, with that
unnatural thing in the form of a green-haired
lady as his guide, and he and she dancing down
together so lovingly to the water's edge, through
the thick of the fishes, she called out after him to
stop and come back. '' Oh then," says she, " as
' T -'"Utw tinm^h lii*forr, tlun' lit* l§

0iug iiwa; to W marrkni Uf thut hciUy

wotsuui. ' ^4n hl^ *^ ipmiduioiber I

I

76 THE WONDERFUL TUNE,

may be to a hake or a cod — Lord help and pity
me^ but 'tis a mighty unnatural thing ! — and may
be 'tis boiling and eating mf own grandchild I '11
be^ with a bit of salt butter^ and I not knowing
it ! — Oh Maurice^ Maurice^ if there 's any love
or nature left in you, come back to your own ould
mother, who reared you like a decent christian !"

Then the poor woman began to cry and ulla-
goane so finely that it would do any one good to
hear her.

Maurice was not long getting to the rim of the
water; there he kept playing and dancing on as
if nothing was the matter, and a great thundering
wave coming in towards him ready to swallow
Him up alive ; but as he could not see it, he did
not fear it. His mother it was who saw it plainly
through the big tears that were rolling down her
cheeks ; and though she saw it, and her heart was
aching as much as ever mother's heart ached for a
son, she &ept dancing, dancing, all the time for
the bare life of her. Certain it was she could not
help it, for Maurice never stopped playing that
wonderful tunie of his.

He only turned the bothered ear to the sound
of his mother's voice, fearing it might put him
out in his steps, and all the answer he made back
was —

" Whisht with you, mother — sure I 'm going

d by Google

'•^r^LTn

1 i^^in^j ^34 ;

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE WONDERFUL TUNE. 77

to be king orer the fishes down in the tea, and
for a token of luck, and a sign that I 'm alive and
well^ 1 11 send you in, ewery twelvemonth on this
day, a piece of honied wood to Trafiraska." Mau-
rice had not the power to say a word more, for
the strange lady with the green hair seeing the
wave just upon them, covered him up with her-
self in a thing like a doak with a big hood to it,
and the wave curling over twice as high as their
heads, burst upon the strand, with a rush and a
roar that might be heard as far as Cape Clear.

That day twelvemonth the piece of burned
wood came ashore in Trafraska. It was a queer
thing for Maurice to think of sending all the way
&om the bottom of the sea. A gown or a pair of
shoes would have been something like a present
for his poor mother; but he had said it, and he
kept his word. The bit of burned wood regularly
came ashore on the appointed day for as good,
ay, and better than a hundred years. The day
is now forgotten, and may be that is the reason
why people say how Maurice Connor has stopped
sending the luck-token to his mother. Poor wo-
man, she did not live to get as much as one of
them ; for what through the loss of Maurice, and
the fear of eating her own grandchildren, she died
in three weeks after the dance — soipe say it was
the fatigue that killed her, but whichever it

t

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

78 THE WONDERFUL TUNE.

was, Mrs. Connor was decently buried with her
own people.

Seafaring people have often heard, off the coast
of Kerry, on a still night, the sound of music
coming up from the water ; and somfe, who have
had good ears, could plainly distinguish Maurice
Connor's voice singing these words to his pipes :—

Beautiful shore, with thy spreading strand.
Thy crystal water, and diamond sand;
Never would I have parted from thee
But for the sake of my fair ladie.

The wonderful effects of music on brutes, and even
inanimate matter, have been the theme of traditions
in all ages. Trees and rocks gave ear to the tones of
the Orphean Ijrre ; the stones of Thebes ranged them-
selves in harmony to the strains of Amphion ; the
dolphin, delighted by the music of Arion, bore him
in safety through the seas ; even

** Rude Heiskar's seal through surges dark.
Will long pursue the minstrel's bark."

LiOrd of the Isles, c. i. sU 2.

The tales of Germany, and other countries, contain
instances of magically endowed tunes. The effect of
Oberon's horn is now well known in this country

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE WONDERFUL TUNE. 79

throng^ Weber^s opera^ and Mr. Sotheby's elegant
translation of Wieland's poem.

In Hogg's ballad of the Witch of Fife^ the pipe of
the ** Wee wee man" makes

** — the troutis laup out of the Leven Loch
Charmit with the melodye."

And as to '^ fish out of water" feeling uncomfortable,
Irish fish are said occasionally to prefer dry land. For
this^ if the language of nature be that of truths we
have no less an authority than Mr. Joseph Cooper
Walker^ the historian of the Irish bards, and a distin-
guished writer on matters of taste.

" Mr. O'Halloran informs me/' says Mr. Walker,
'' that there is preserved in the Leabher Lecan^ or
Book of Sligo, a beautiful poem on the storm that
arose on the second landing of the Milesians^ which
is attributed to Amergin. In this poem there appears
a boldness of metaphor which a cold critic would de-
spise, because it offends against the rules of Aristotle,
though the Stagyrite was not then bom : however^ it
is the language of Nature! The author, in order to
heighten the horrors of the storm, represents the fish
as being so much terrified, that they quit their ele*
jnent for dry land :—

-^ijfe^c ^ai]t, ti)ollAC J»\x 5
}Lo|ti)'A^6e^i> e]f c lAf c bo ca^i)b,
Ke CA^b i)A «FAi]tce jiuAb ;
£Af Alii «F|i)b,'' &c.

Diqitized by LjOOQ IC

80' THE WONDERFUL TUNE.

The odd tunes mentioned as being known to Mau-
rice Connor are great favourites in Ireland. ** The
Eagle's Whistle" is a singularly wild strain^ which
was a march or war-tune of the O'Donoghues, and is
not to be met with in print. " The Hens' Concert"
has been published in O'Farrell's Companion for the
Pipes^ and is a melodious imitation of the tuc-tiic-a-
tuc'too of the barn-door gentry. " Ollistrum's March"
may be found in Researches in the South of Ireland^
p. 116.

The Rinka fada is a national dance mentioned in a
note in the tale of " Master and Man," in the pre-
ceding volume. It is said to mean " the long dance/'
froju the Irish words Ilinceadth, a dance^ and fada,
long. In Ben Jonson's Irish Masque^ the words fading'
and faders occur ; on the former Mr. Gifibrd ob-
serves : ** This word, which was the burthen of a
popular Irish song, gave name to a dance frequently
mentioned by our old dramatists. Both the song and
the dance appear to have been of a licentious character,
and merit no further elucidation." Notwithstanding
the high critical reputation of the late editor of the
Quarterly, the writer, in justice to his country, must
state his ignorance of any such Irish song as that men-
tioned by Mr. Gifford ; although, from the attention
which he has paid to the subject, and his personal
intercourse with the peasantry, it could hardly have
escaped his acquaintance. He has frequently wit-
nessed the Rinka fada performed, but has never ob-
served the really graceful movements of that dance to
partake of licentiousness. The mere explanation, that

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE WONDERFUL TUNE. 81

Feadan is the Irish for a jnpe or reed^ and Feadanach,
a piper^ appears to be all the comment which the pass-
age in " rare Ben" requires. But Mr. Gifibrd was
fond of volunteering incorrect information respecting
Ireland : witness his note on " Harper/' which occurs
in the Masque of the Metamorphosed Gipsies, and
where a reference to Simon's work on Coins would
have prevented a series of inaccuracies uncalled for by
the text.

*' When liquor 's in, the wit is out," — ^a common
Irish saying ; resembles the old legend still to be seen
over the cellar-door of Doddershall Park, Bucks, the
venerable seat of colonel Pigott, where it was put up
about the time of Elizabeth :

" lOSitlccmt, m^ f teinDc, Drin&e \oitfs a nobie ficattc^
Bat pt, before ^ dtin&e too mntl)» Depatte ;
JFot t|)oag|) gooD otinfce toiii mafce a cotoatd jB(totit«
Het tDt)cn too nutcb i^ in t|)C ioit ifi oat"

Father Conry's poem respecting the dancing fish
is freely translated from the Irish. The concluding
verse of the tale, which, it is said, Maurice Connor
has been heard singing under the water, is almost a
literal translation of the following rann from the song
of Deardra :

^OiJrt)UD C|IA151D, ir C|t6AD C]t^l5,

GdocA bc^ocp^iDi) Ajfbe or) oi|t,
^ui)A bciocp^rPO T^® ti)]oi)Tt)>?o»

PART II. G

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

oa THE WONDERFUL TUNE.

Specimens of this beautiful poem have been given
by Dr. Neilson in his Irish grammar (Dublin^ 1808 j,
to which the reader is referred.

Maurice is said to have turned ^' the bothered ear"
to his mother. This Hibemo Anglicism is exactly
the same as the English phrase " turning the ^eaf
ear ;" deaf being, in the Ibemo Celtic^ BSdhar, The
word bother^ indeed^ appears to have in some d^ee
become naturalized in England :

" O Kitty Clover, she bothers me so, &c."

Smith, in his History of Kerry (p. 102), thus de-
scribes the scene of the dance at Trafraska i^-" Near
the mouth of the river Inny there is a fine extensive
strand, which I mention because it is almost the only
smooth place that a person might venture to put an
horse to gallop for many miles round it. It is esteemed
also a rarity, all the cliffs of the coast being exceeding
high, and washed by the ocean at low water."

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

FAIRY LEGENDS.

THE DULLAHAN,

^^^

• " Men whose heads

Do grow beneath their shoulders.*'

Shakspeare.
"Says the fHar, 'tis strange headless horses should trot.'

Old Song.

g2

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

' Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE DULLAHAN.

THE GOOD WOMAN.

In a pleasant and not unpicturesque Tsdley of
the White Kni^t's Country^ at the foot of the
Graltee mountains^ lived LiEury Dodd and his wife
Nancy. They rented a cabin and a few acres of
land^ which they cultivated with great care^ and
its crops rewarded their industry. They were
independent and respected by their neighbours;
they loved each other in a marriageable sort of
way^ and few couples had altogether more the
appearance of comfort about them.

Larry was a hard workings and, occasionally, a
hard drinking, Dutch-built, little man, with a
liddle head and a round stem; a steady-going
straight-forward fellow, barring when he carried
too much whiskey, which, it must be confessed,
might occasionally prevent his walking the chalked

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

86 THE GOOD WOMAN.

liue with perfect piiilomatliical accuracy. He had
a moist ruddy countenance^ rather inclined to an
expression of gravity^ and particularly so in the
morning; hut^ taken all together^ he was gene-
rally looked upon as a marvellously proper person^
notwithstanding he had^ every day in the year^ a
sort of unholy dew upon his face^ even in the
coldest weather, which gave rise to a supposition,
(amongst censorious persons, of course), that Larry
was apt to indulge in strong and frequent pota-
tions. However, aQ men of talents have their
faults — indeed, who is without them — and as
Larry, setting aside his domestic virtues and skill
in fanning, was decidedly the most distinguished
breaker of horses for forty miles round, he^must
be in some degree eitcused, considering the induce-
ments of ^* the stirrup cup," and the fox-hunting
society in which he mixed, if he had also been the
greatest drunkard in the county—- but in truth
this was not the case.

Larry was a man c^ mixed habits, as well in
his mode of life and his drink, as in his costume.
His dress accorded well with his character — a sort
of half-and-half between farmer and horse-joekey.
He wore a blue coat of coarse cloth, with short
skirts, and a stand-up collar; his waistcoat was
red, and his lower habiliments were made of lea-
ther, whicji in course of time had shrunk so much

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE GOOD WOMAN. 87

that they fitted like a seoood skin, and long use
had abflorhed their moisture to such a de^xe that
the/^nade a strange sort of crackling nmse as he
walked along. A hat covered with oil skin; a
cutting-whip, all wwn and jagged at the end; a
pair of second-^and, or, to speak more CQErecdj,
second^footed, greasj top-hoots, that seemed nerer
to have imhihed a refreshing drau^t of Warren's
blacking of matdiless lustre ! — and one spor with-
out a rowel, completed the ereiy-day dress of
Larry Dodd.

Thus equipped was Larry returning from Gashel,
mounted on a rough-coated and wall-eyed nag,
though, notwithstanding these and a few other
trifliqg blemishes, a well-built animal; having
just purchased the said nag, with a fancy that he
could make his own money again of his bargain,
and, mayb^ turn an odd penny more by it at the
ensuing Kildorrery fair. Well pleased with him-
self, he trotted £iir and easy along the road in the
delicious and lingering twilight of a lovely June
evening, thinking of nothing at all, only whistling,
and wondering would horses always be so low.
" If they go at this rate," said he to himself^ '' for
half nothing, and that paid in butter buyer^s notes,
who would be the fool to walk?" This very
thought, indeed, was passing in his mind, when his
attention was roused by a woman pacing quickly

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

88 THE GOOD WOMAN.

by the side of his horse^ and hurrying on^ as if
endeavouring to reach her destination before the
night closed in. Her figure^ considering the long
strides she took^ appeared to be under the common
size — rather of the dumpy order ; but further, as
to whether the damsel wa^ youn^ or old, fair or
brown, pretty or ugly, Larry could form no pre-
cise notion, from her wearing a large doak (the
usual garb of the female Irish peasant), the hood
of which was turned up, and completely concealed
every feature.

Enveloped in this mass of dark and concealing
drapery, the strange woman, without much^ exer-
tion, contrived to keep up with Larry Dodd's steed
for some time, when his master very civilly offered
her a lift behind him, as far as he was going her
way. " Civility begets civility," they say ; how-
ever, he received no answer ; and thinking that the
lady's silence proceeded only from bashfulness, like
a man of true gallantry, not a word more saidLarry,
until he pulled up by the side of a gap, and then
says he, " Ma colleen beg*, just jump up behind
me, without a word more, though never a one
have you spoke, and I '11 take you safe and sound
through the lonesome bit of road that is before us."

She jumped at the offer, sure enough, and up

* My litde girl,

y

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE GOOD WOMAN. 89

with her on the back of the horse as light as a
feather. In an instant there she was seated up
behind Larry^ with her hand and arm buckled
round his waist holding on.

" I hope you 're comfortable there^ my dear,"
said Larry, in his own good-humoured way ; but
there was no answer; and on they went — ^trot,
trot, trot — along the road; and all was so still
and so quiet that you might have heard the sound
of the hoofs on the limestone a mile off: for that
matter there was nothing else to hear except the
moaning of a distant stream, that kept up a con-
tinued cronane*, like a nurse kuskoing. Larry,
who had a keen ear, did not however require so
profound a silence to detect the dick of one of the
shoes. '^ 'Tis only loose the shoe is," said he to
his companion, as they were just entering on the
lonesome bit of road of which he had before spoken.
Some old trees, with huge trunks, all covered, and
irregular branches festooned with ivy, grew over
a dark pool of water, which had been formed as
a drinking-place for cattle ; and in the distance
was seen the majestic head of Graltee-more. Here
the horse, as if in grateful recognition, made a
dead halt ; and Larry, not knowing what vicious
tricks his new purchase might have, and unwilling

* A monotoDOtts soog ; a diowsy humming noise.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

90 THE GOOD WOMAN.

that through any odd chance the young woman
should get spUt in the water^ dismounted^ thinking
to lead the horse quietly hy the pool.

" By the piper's luck, that always found what
he wanted/' said Larry, reodlecting himself, '' I ' ve
a nail in my pocket : 'tis not the first time I 've
put on a shoe, and may he it wo' n't he the last ;
for here is no want of paving-stones to make ham-
mers in plenty."

No sooner was Larry off than off with a spring
came the young woman just at his side. Her feet
touched the ground without making the least noise
in life, and away she hounded like an ill-man-
nered wench, as she was, without saying " hy your
leave," or no matter what else. She seemed to
glide rather than run, not along the road, hut
across a field, up towards the old ivy-covered walls
of Kilnaslattery church — and a pretty church it
was.

^' Not so fast, if you please, young woman*^
not so fast," cried Larry, calling after her; hut
away she ran, and Larry followed, his leathern
garment, akeady described, crack, crick, crackling
at every step he took. ** Where's my wages?"
said Larry : *' Thorum pog, ma coUeen oge *, —
sure I 've earned a kiss from your pair of pretty

* Give me a kiss, my young girL

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE OOOI) WOMAN. 91

lips-*and I '11 hare it too V* But the went on v.
fatter and fatter, regardlett of thete and other
flattering tpeechei from her purtuer ; at latt the
came to the churchward wall, and then over with
her in an inttant.

" Well, the 't a mightj tmart creature anyhow.
To be ture, how neat the ttept upon her pattemt !
Did any one ever tee the like of that before ;—
but I 'U not be baulked by any woman that ever
wore a head, or any ditch either/' exdaimed Lorry,
at with a detperate bound he vaulted, tcranibled,
and tumbled over the wall into the churchyard*
Up he got from the elattic tod of a newly made
grave in which Tode Leary that morning .wat
buried — rett hit toul ! — and on went Larry, ttum«
biing over head-ttonet and foot-ttonet, over old
gravet and new gravet, piecet of coffint, and the
tkullt and bonet of dead men— the Lord tave ut !
—that were tcattered about there at plenty at
pavlng*ttonet ; floundering amidtt great over-
^grown dock-leavet and bramblet that, with their
long prickly armt, tangled round hit limbt, and
held him back with a fearful graqp. Mean time
the roerxy wench in the cloak moved through all
thete obttructiont at evenly and at gaily at if the
churchyard, crowded up at it wat with gravet
and gravettonet (for people came to be buried
there from ftr and near), had been the floor of a

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

'92 THE GOOD WOMAN.

dandng-room. Round and round the walls of
the old church she went. " I '11 just wait," said
Larry, seeing this, and thinking it all nothing but
a trick to frighten him ; '^ when she comes round
again, if I don't take the kiss, I won't, that 's all,
— and here' she is !" Larry Dodd sprung forward
with open arms, and clasped in them — a woman,
it is true — but a woman without any lips to kiss,
by reason of her having no head !

. " Murder !" cried he. " Well, that accounts
for her not speaking." Having uttered these
words^ Larry himself became dumb with fear and
astonishment ; his blood seemed turned to ice, and
a dizziness came over him ; and, staggering like
a drunken man, he rolled against the broken win-
dow of the ruin, horrified at the conviction that
he had actually held a Dullahan in his embrace !
When he recovered to something like a feeling of
consciousness, he slowly opened his eyes, and then,
indeed, a scene of wonder burst upon him. In the
midst of the ruin stood an old wheel of torture,
ornamented with heads, like Cork gaol, when the
heads of Murty Sullivan and other gentlemen were
stuck upon it. This was plainly visible in the
strange light which spread itself around. It was
fearful to behold, but Larry could not choose but
look, for his limbs were powerless through the
wonder and the fear. Useless as it was, he would

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

roof rf lag TiwiA —dam one wai£ canic fearr.

In flhort, ""M**^ "WBE i^Ony .niBBBr ^TlllfUPlI & I^HB^

teredwindnvrof liie oU dnnduwidigyggl ileM eJ

rested OB Ae Ak ijiafc of ^le mlL oiveriRiadi,
on one sde. Ins Imd and iHitwl imLLud iiodiL jvtK
jected. Mad cm liie alAiec, ahiinngh cne toe
the groond, it dtaiviad no winiiii'i fiuui
tenor, as it were, \ept Inm Maimnd
lUNses niwiiifd Ilk eais, mdal at lait l^er tii^M
painfiiUj to tlie diarp datter cif Hlt&e belk wlock
kept up a caontiiiiied di ng &ig— feig-^fe^:
marrowless faaoes lattJed aad fiaatfwi, and tiie
deep and solemn soond of a great bdl a
ing on the night wind.

'Twas a spectre mng
That bell when it swung —

Swing-swang !
And the chain it squeaked.
And the pulley creaked,

Swing-swang !

And with every roll
Of the deep death toll
Ding-dong ! ,

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

94 THE GOOD WOMAN.

The hollow vault rang
As the clapper went hang^
Ding-dong !

It was strange music to dance hy ; nevertheless^
moving to it^ round and round the wheel set with
skulls^ were well dressed ladies and gentlemen^
and soldiers and sailors^ and priests and puhlicans^
and jockeys and Jennys^ but all without ^eir
heads. Some poor skeletons^ whose bleached bones
were ill covered by moth-eaten palls, and who
were not admitted into the ring, amused them-
selves by bowling their brainless noddles at one
another, which seemed to enjoy the sport beyond
measure.

Larry did not know what to think ; his brains
were all in a mist, and losing the balance which
he had so long maintained, he fell headforemost
into the midst of the company of DuUahans.

'' I 'm done for and lost for ever," roared Larry,
with his heels turned towards the stars, and souse
down he came.

" Welcome, Larry Dodd, welcome," cried every
head, bobbing up and down in the air. " A drink
for Larry Dodd," shouted they, as with one voice,
that quavered like a shake on the bagpipes. No
sooner said than done, for ^ player at heads.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE GOOD WOJULS. 93

catchiiig his own as it wis bowled at liim, for
fear of its gobig astiaj^ jumped up^pvt tiie liead,
without a word, under his left ann, and, with the
right stretched out, p rese nt ed a brimming cup to
lisarry, who, to show his mannens dnmk it off like
a man.

" 'Tis capital stu£^" he would have said, whidi
surely it was, but he got no further than cap,
when decapitated was he, and his head b^an
dancing over his shoulders like those of the rest
of the party. Larry, however, was not the first
man who lost his head through the temptation of
looking at the bottom of a brimming cup. No-
thing more did -he remember clearly, for it seems
body and head being parted is not very favourable
to thought, but a great hurry scurry with the noise
of carriages and the cracking of whips.

When his senses returned, his first act was to
put up his hand to where his head formerly grew,
and to his great joy there he found it still. He
then shook it gently, but his head remained firm
enough, and somewhat assured at this, he pro-
ceeded to open his eyes and look around him. It
was broad daylight, and in the old church of Kil-
naslattery he found himself lying, with that head,
the loss of which he had anticipated, quietly rest-
ing, poor youth, " upon the lap of earth." jCould
it have been an ugly dream ? ^' Oh no," said Larry,

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

96 THE GOOD WOMAN.

" a dream could never have brought me here,
stretched on tKe flat of my back, with that death's
head and cross marrow bones forenenting me on
the fine old tombstone there that was faced by-
Pat Kearney* of Kilcrea — but where is the horse?"
He got up slowly, every joint aching with pain
from the bruises he had received, and went to
the pool of water, but no horse was there. '' 'Tis
home I must go," said Larry, with a rueful coun-
tenance ; ^' but how will I face Nancy ? — what
wiU I tell her about the horse, and the seven
I. O. U.'s that he cost me ? — 'Tis them Dullahans
that have made their own of him from me — the
horsestealing robbers of the world, that have no
' fear of the gallows ! — ^but what 's gone is gone,
that's a dear case!" — so saying, he turned his
steps homewards, and arrived at his cabin about
noon without encountering any further adven-
tures. There he found Nancy, who, as he ex-
pected, looked as black as a thundercloud at him
for being out all night. She listened to the mar-
vellous relation which he gave with exclamations
of astonishment, and when he had concluded, of
grief, at the loss of the horse that he had paid
for like an honest man in I. O. U/s, three of
which she knew to be as good as gold.

* Faced^ so written by the Chantrey of KUcrea for "/eci/."

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE GOOD WOMAK. 07

" But what took you up to the old church at
ttU^ out of tho road^ and at that time of the night,
Larry ?" Inquired hii wife*

Larry loolcod lllce a criminal for whom there
wa0 no reprieve; he icratched hit head for an
cxcuMC, but not one could he mutter up, mo he
knew not what to lay.

" Oh ! Larry, Larry," muttered Nancy, after
waiting iome time for hif aniwer, her Jealoun
fram during the paune riiing like barm ; " 'tit
the very game way with you a« with any other
man — you are all alike for that matter-*! Ve no
pity for you — Init, confeM the truth I"

Larry ihuddcrcd at the tempest whicli he per-
ceived wa« about to break tipon hit devoted head.
" Nancy," naid he, '' I do confcM :— it was a young
W(nnan without any head that — "

Illn wife heard no more. '' A woman I knew
it wall/' cried iihc ; " but a woman without a head,
T^rry l-i— well, it i« long More Nancy Gollaghcr
ever thought it would come to that with her ! —
that fihe would be left diWlute and alone here by
her baiie of a hunliand, for a woman without a
head !«— O father, father 1 and O mother, mother !
it in well you are low to-day ! — that you don't iec
thin affliction and disgrace to your daughter that
you reared decent and tender. O Larry, you vil-

PAKT II. H

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

98 THE GOOD WOMAN.

lian, you '11 be the death of your lawful wife going
after such O— jO— .Q— "

'* Well/' says Larry, putting his hands in his
coa^-pockets, " least said is soonest mended. Of
the young woman I Know no more than I do of
Moll Flanders ; but this I know, that a woman
without a head may well be called a Gk)od Woman,,
because she has.no tongue !"

How this remark operated on the matrimonial
dispute history does not inform us. It is, how-
ever, reported that the lady had the last word.

Mr. O'Reilly, author of the best Irish Dictionary
extant, respecting the name Dullahan thus expresses
himself in a communication to the ivriter.

'^ Dul^chan (in Irish Dubhlachan) signifies a dark,
sullen person. The word Durrach^, or Dullahan,
by which in some places the goblin is known, has
the same signification. It comes from Dorr, or Durr,
anger, or Durrach, malicious, fierce, &c." The cor-
rectness of this last etymology may be questione<l, as
Dubh, black, is evidently a component part of the
word.

Headless people are not peculiar to Ireland, although
there alone they seem^ to have a peculiar name. Le-
gends respecting them are to be found in most eoun-

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

Google

THE GOOD WO.MAN. 99

tries. It cannot be asserted that the ancients had
any idea of people appearing after death without
heads^ but they firmly believed that whole nations
contrived to live without them. St. Augustine, whose
veracity it is to be supposed no one will question^ not
merely heard of them, but actually preached the gospel
to such beings. In his 37th sermon^ Ad Fratres in
Eremo^ he thus expresses himself. " Ego jam Epi-
scopus ' Hipponensis eram et cum quibusdam servis
Christi ad ^thiopiam perrexi ut eis sanctum Christi
Evangelium pnedicarem et vidimus ibi multos ho-
mines ac mulieres capita non habenies" Kommann
in his " de Miraculis Vivorum" (Frankf. 1694, p. 58)
endeavours to account, philosophically, for the pro-
duction of headless people.

If one saint preached to people " capita non ha-
bentes/' the history of other saints will prove that
the head is not so essential a part of man as is gene-
rally believed. The Legend of St. Denis, who, saM
iete, walked from Paris to the place which now bears
his name, is too well known to require repetition.
At Zaragosa, in Spain, there is a church called En-
•gracia, the patron saint of which is said to have marched
a league, carrying his head in his hands, talking all
the way ; and in this manner he presented himself at
the gate of the convent The marvellous expertuess
of the Orrilo of Bojardo and Ariosto at sticking on his
head and limbs, when they chanced to be struck off
by the adverse knight, must be familiar to the Italian
reader. His chase of Astolpho, who gallops off with

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

100 TfiE GOOD WOMA^.

the headj far exceeds the sober walk of the aforesaid
patron saints. See Orlando Furioso, c. 1 5.

Blind Harry records the adventure of an Irish
chieftain who pitched his head at the renowned Sir
William Wallace^ which Sir William^ dexterously
catching by the hair^ flung back at his adversary.

The idea of decollated persons walking probacy
b^n thus : — *' The old painters represented the
martyrs by characteristic badges^ allddiv^e of the mode
of their execution ; some with a knife in the bosom ;
others^ who were decapitated^ with their heads upon a
table hard by, or in their hands. Hence, perhaps,
arose the singular sign, still so great a favourite with
our oil-men, ' The good woman,' originally expressive
of a female saint ; a holy or good woman, who had
met her death by the privation of'her head." There
is no authority to prove that headless people were
unable to speak ; on the contrary, a variation of the
story of the Golden Mountain given in a note in the
Kindermarchen, relates, that a servant without a head
informed the fisherman (who was to achieve the ad-
venture), of the enchantment of the king's daughter,
and of the mode of liberating her. How by the wag-
gery of after ages the good woman came to be converted
down into the silent woman, as if it were a matter of
necessity, is thus explained by the poet :

'' A silent woman, sir ! you said —
Pray, was she painted without head ?
Yes, sir, she was !— you never read on "
A silent woman with her head on :

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE UOOI) WOMAN. 101

Deftidef , you know, there '• nought but fpeakiDg
Cen luMfp • woiiMu'f heart from breaking r

Mr. M. W. Pried, in hia pretty Ule of Lillian, by an
Ittgenioua meUphor of a beautiful idiot, would explain
« headleas woman.

" And hence the story had e?er run,
That the fairest of dames wu a headless one/'

To pais ftrom the living to the dead. " The Irish
I>ullahan," said a high authority on such matters,
*' puts me in mind o( a spectre at Drurolanrick castle
of no less a person than the duchess of Queensberry—
* Pair Kitty, blooming, young, and gay/— who, in-
•toad of setting fire to the world in mamma's chariot,
^muits herself with wheeling her own head in a wlieel-
harrow through the great gallery."

At Odense, in the Island of Funen, the people re-

'Ihllie, WAS hurJrd ^Unt for liiM crirni^v^ HtiCjhoit

rofM^LrrinrrJ to w«lk, and HumUy children

a^* wbij ttri* ijifltd with Uitf'l»«w«r

! til oilier eyirs; have \whah\

mdrr Mi urm-— Tkkk*§

*I02 THE GOOD WOMAN.

spectres (wraiths) of monks and nuns^ whose death is
at hand^ are seen in the chapel, occupying their usual
seats, but without heads. Dr. Ferrier, in his Theory
of Apparitions, speaking of second sight in Scotland,
(p. 65) mentions an old northern chieftain, who owned
to a relative of his (Dr. F's.) " that the door" (of the
room in which they and some ladies were sitting)
" had appeared to opf n, and that a little woman with"
out a head had entered the room ; — that the apparition
indicated the sudden death of some person of his ac-
quaintance," &c.

This last circumstance of death being presaged by
apparitions without heads seems to have something
symbolical in it, as it was very natural to denote the
cessation of life by a figure devoid of the seat of
sensation and thought.

Digitized by CjOOQ IC

HANLON'H MILL.

OtiH (inn Nuromer'N evening Michnel Nooimn
went over to Jftik Brien'u, the nhoemaker, ut
Bttllydulf, for the |>ttir of broguen which Jack wm
mending (or him. It wan a pretty walk the way
he t<N)k, hut very lonenome ; all along by the
riverside, down under the oak-wood, till he came
to Ilanlon'f mill, that uned to be, but that had
gone to ruin many a long year ago.

Melancholy enough the walU of that same mill
looked i the great old wheel, black with age, all
covered over with moiw and femii, and the buNheN
all hanging down alniut it. There it Ntood, silent
and motionleM ; and a sad contrast it was to its
form^ busy clack, with the stream which once
gave it use rijipling idly along.

I ft LimI ^tvM know*
thvrv WAS mil an hi^rli iJiat |(ri*w

I* {\\ i

1 ay II..;

104 hanlon's mill.

I hear tell as how " the great Burke" went to
school to him. Master Edmund lived up at the
old house^ there^ which was then in the family^
and it was the Nagles that got it afterwards^ but
they sold it.

But it was Michael Noonan's walk I was about
speaking of. It was fairly between lights, the
day was clean gone^ and the moon was not yet
up, when Mick was walking smartly across the
Inch. Well, he heard, coming down out of the
Wood, such blowing of horns and hallooing, and
the cry of all the hounds in the world, and he
thought they were coming after him; and the
galloping of the horses, and the voice of the
whipper-in, and he shouting out, just likefthe
fine old song,

" Hallo Piper, Lily, agus Finder ;"

and the echo over from the gray rock across the
river giving back every word as plainly as it was
spoken. But nothing could Mick see, and the
shouting and hallooing following him every step
of the way till he got up to Jack Brien's door ;
and he was certain, too, he heard the dack of old
Hanlon's mill going, through all the clatter. ' To
be sure, he ran as fast as fear and his legs could
(^trry him^ and never once looked behind him, well
knowing that the Duhallow hounds were out in

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

^A}}LON's MILL* 105

quite another quarter that d&j, and that nothing
good could come out of the noise of Hanlon's mill.

Well^ Michael Noonan got his hrogues^ and
well heeled they were, and well pleased was he
with them ; when who should be seated at Jack
Brien's before him^ but a gossip of his^ one Darby
Haynes^ a mighty decent man^ that had a horse
and car of his own^ and that used to be travelling
with it^ taking loads like the royal mail coach be-
tween Cork and Limerick ; and when he was at
home^ Darby was a near neighbour of Michael
Noonan's.

^^Is it home you're going with the brogues
this blessed night ?'' said Darby to him.

'^ Where else would it be?" replied Mick:

*' but/by my word, 'tis not across the Inch back

' again I 'm goihg, after all I heard coming here ;

'tis to no good that old Hanlon's mill is busy

again."

^^ True, for you/' said Darby ; " and may be
you 'd take the horse and car home for me, Mick,
by way of company, as 'tis along the road you go.
I 'm waiting here to see a sister's son of mine
that I expect from Kilcoleman." '^ That same
I '11 do," answered Mick, ^* with a thousand wel-
comes." So Mick drove the car fair and easy,
knowing that the poor beast had come off a long
journey; and Mick — God reward him for it —

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

106 haxlon's mill,

was always tender-hearted and good to the dumb
creatures.

The night was a beautiful one ; the moon was
better than a quarter old ; and Mick^ looking up
at her, could not help bestowing a blessing on her
beautiful face^ shining down so sweetly upon the
gentle Awbeg. He had now got out of the open
road and had come to where the trees grew on
each side of it : he proceeded for some space in
the half-and-half light which the moon gave
through thepi. At one time when a big old tree
got between him and the moon, it was so dark
that he could hardly see the horse's head ; then,
as he passed on, the moonbeams would stream
through the open boughs and variegate the road
with lights and shades. Mick was lying down in
the car at his ease, having got dear of the planta*
tion^ and was watching the bright piece of a
moon in a little pool at the road side^ when he
saw it disappear all of a sudden as if a great doud
came over the sky. He turned round on his elbow
to see if it was so, but how was Mick astonished
at finding, close along-side of the car, a great high
blaick coach drawn by six black horses, with long
black tails reaching almost down to the ground,
and a coachman dressed all in black sitting up on
the box. But what surprised Mick the most was,
that he could see no sign of a head.«ifeh9C-]

UANLON*0 MILL. 107

coachman or hones. It iwept rapidly by hlnii and
ho could perceive the honei railing their feet a»
if they were in a Ano ilinging trot» the coachman
touching them up with hii long whip, and the
whecli ipinning round like hoddy-doddiei ; itill
he could hear no noise, only the regular step of
his gOMip Darby's horse, and the squeaking of the
gudgeons of the car, that were as good as lost en-
tirely for want of a little grease.

Poor Mick's heart almost died within him, but
he said nothing, only looked on ; and the black
coach swept away, and was soon lost among some
distant trees. Mick saw nothing more of it, or
indeed of any thing else . He got home J ust as the
moon was going down behind Mount HiUery —
took the tackling off the horse, turned the beast
out in the field for the night, and got to his bed.

Next morning, early, he was standing at the
road-side thinking of all that had happened the
night before, when he saw Dan Madden, that was
Mr. Wrixon's huntsman, coming on the master's
best horse, down the hill, as hard as ever he went
at the tail of the hounds. Mick's mind instantly
misgave him that all was not right, so he stood out
in the very middle of the road, and caught hold of
Dan's bridle when he came up.

M Ukk0 dear— for the love of God I don't stop

d by Google

108 hanlon'^s mill.

*' Why^ what 's the hurry ?" said Mick.

'' Oh, the master !— he 's off— he 's off— he '11
never cross a horse again till the day of judg-
ment !"

'' Why, what would ail his honour ? " said
Mick ; *' sure it is no later than yesterday morn-
ing that I was talking to him, and he stout and
hearty ; and says he to me, Mick, says he" —

'* Stout and hearty was he ?" answered Madden ;
'^ and was he not out with me in the kennel last
night, when I was feeding the dogs ; and didn't
he come out to the stable, and give a ball to Peg
PuUuway with his own hand, and tell me he 'd
ride the old General to-day ; and sure," said Dan,
wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his coat, ''who 'd
have thought that the first thing I'd see this morn-
ing was the mistress standing at my bed-side, and
bidding me get up and ride off like fire for Doctor
Johnson ; for the master had got a fit, and" — poor
Dan's grief choked his voice — ''oh, Mick ! if you
have a heart in you, run over yourself, or send the
gessoon for Kate Finnigan, the midwife ; she 's a
cruel skilful woman, and maybe she might save
the master, till I get the doctor."

Dan struck his spurs into the hunter, and Mi->
chael Noonan flung off his newly-mended brogues,
and cut across the fields to Kate Finnigan's j but
neither the doctor nor Katty was of any avail.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

HANLOM S MILL.

109

and the next night'f moon mw Ballygibblin — and
more'f the pity — a house of mourning.

To an anonymouf correspondent (A. H. B. Clon-
mel) the compiler is chiefly indebted for the foregoing
legend. Burke's residence in the neighbourhood of,
and early education at Castletown roche, aro noticed
by Mr. Prior in his excellent life of that illustrious
man.

Another legend of the same district reUtes, that a
black coachi drawn by headless horses, goes every
night from Castle Hyde till it comes to Ghtna Fauna^
a little beyond Ballyhooly^ when ft proceecUi up the
valley, and then returns back again. The same coach
is also reported to drive every Saturday night through
the town of Doneraile, and to stop ni the doors of dif-
ferent houses ; but should any one be so fool-hardy
as to open the door, a basin of blood is instantly flung
in their face.

The appearance of " the Headless Coach," as it is
called, is a very general superstition, and ia generally
regarded as a sign of death, or an omen of some mis-

'Jihnw Hntny^iw i^elievr, tlint when

fn lit Imuilf n. liturht ilrawn

rnrtiiptrf an mtnkon),

Mi'N 1j) till house

filJn^ of the

oogle

110 HANLON's MILL.

wheels may be plainly heard." — Journal des Sciences,
1826, communicated by Dr. Grimm.

The Glasgow Chronicle (January, 1826) records
the following occurrence at Paisley^ on the occasion
of some silkweavers being out of employment.

'' Visions have been seen of carts^ caravans, and
coaches going up Gleni£fer braes without horses, or
with horses without heads. Not many nights ago^
mourning coaches, too^ were seen going up the Cart
aboye the town, with all the solemnity of a funeral.
Some hoary-headed citizens relate, that about thirty
years backward in their history, a famine was pro- ,
gnosticated in much the same way, by unusual appear-
ances in the Causey-side. The most formidable wit-
nesses in favour of the visions come from Neilston,
who declare that they have seen the coaches, &c. two
by two, coming over the braes, and are quite willing
to depose to said facts whenever asked, before the
Paisley magistrates."

Places where any fatal accident has occurred, or
any murder been committed, are seldom without
a supernatural tale of terror, in which the headless
coach antl horst:. , iii their part* One instaiuv

will probably fiuP

Many yt nr

tharine's cli;

of Donore, in
choly, or i
ence, by ban
to

1

HAMr.ON'« HllL. Ill

Ttut he bad iupematural aid in aecoinpliabfng the
iWd fa the belief of the neighbourhood ; for, biaidea
the aroallneaa of the window, there i» tlie farther evi-
dence that, (o tbia very day, the niark of hia figure ia
Mneii on the wall beneath it* and no whitewaahing ia
able to efkce it. After hia death; a coach, aoinetimea
driven by a coachman without a head, aometimea
drawn by horaea without heada, waa frequently ob-
M'fved at night driving furioualy by lU)|ier'a lieat,
M llu? I'aatle waa called from him,

Popular legenda are full of accounta of wild hunta-
inen, and auch reatleM jierHonagea, King Arthur, we
are told, uied to hunt in the Engliah wooda : no one
could aee the monarch himtielf, but the aounding of
the horna and the cry of the hounda might be plainly
heard ; and when any one calbd out after him, an
anawer waa returned —** We are king Arthur and hia
kindred/' In France there waa Ix» Grand Veneur»
who haunted ttie wooda round Kontainebleau ; in
Oernuiny, IfackellMTg. who gave up hia ah are of
heaven for jierm lanion to hunt till doomiulay ; in
l^U'awick, king AM ; in the Diiiiiah iNlundit, lirmn
Ji'iUi, who riden with hia head under hia arm ; Falna
J/iger, and king Wolmar, or WahU mar : thia la*t
monarch alao hunta in JutUnd, where he may be
heard continually crying out, I/ri/ I/ou / L^yttig/
(!*fufut{t I which are the namea of hia four houndn.
For hunting fairiea, are Wahlron, p. \W4\ alao Cro«
mek'a llemaina of Nithindale and Galloway Hong,
p, ypH, and note on aubnequent atory.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE HARVEST DINNER.

It was Monday^ and a fine October morning.
The sun had been some time above the mountains,
and the hoar frost and the drops on the gossamers
were glittering in the light, when Thady Byrne,
on coming in to get his breakfast, after having
dug out a good piece of his potatoes, saw his neigh-
bour, Paddy Cavenagh, who lived on the other
side of the road, at his own door tying his
brogues.

" A good morrow to you, Paddy, honey," said
Thady Byrne.

'^ Good morrow, kindly, Thady,** said Paddy.
" Why then, Paddy avick, it is not your early
rising, any how, that will do you any harm this
morning."

'* It 's true enough for you, Thady," answered
Paddy, casting a look up at the sky ; '' for I be- *
lieve it 's pretty late in the day. But I was up,
you see, murdering late last night."

" To be sure, then, Paddy, it was up at the
great dinner, yesterday, above at the big house
you were."

d by Google

THE HARVEST DINNER.

113

^^'' A.ywMit; and a rattling fine dinner we liad
•^ it, too."

V^hy, then, Paddy, agrah/what is to ail you
^OMr, iHit you^d juit dt yourself down liere, on
this piece of green sod, and tell us all about it,
from beginning to end."

*• Never say the word twice, man ; I '11 give
you the whole full and true account of it, and
^^^elcome."

"K^hey lat down on the road side, and Paddy
**»*«* began;

Well, you see, Thady, we 'd a powerful great

rest of it, you know, this year, and the men all

*^"*«d like jewels as they are ; and the master

"> great epirits, and he piomited he *d give us

^^* Sxiand dinner when the drawing-in was over,

j^^ ^ com all safe in the haggard. 80 this

ji ®*k crown od the bufiineM ; and cm Bntiirday

Mi*i '*^* '♦Ji*-*ii' vviLH ricully ikA iiml -^i nl in Ut

***tiV«i, fuul i^vt^ry ihiuf^ wus (Srii^ht-'il, all tc*
1 9. W^Uf you »et' , J MHt ji»
' *" -T 'V'— V-Tftljj^thi! liiat
out

'I

IC? Pi

«iu

114 THE HARVEST DINNER.

early^ yez shall have mass in the big hall^ without
the trouble of going up all the ways to the chapel
for it/ "

'^ Why, then, did she really say so, Paddy ?"

'^ That she did — the sorrow the lie in it."

" WeU, go on."

^' Well, if we did not set up a shout for her,
it 's no matter !"

" Ay, and good right you had too, Paddy, avick ."

" Well, you see, yesterday morning — which,
God be jiraised ! was as fine a day as ever came out
of the sky — when I had taken the beard off me,
Tom Connor and I set out for the big house. And
I don't know, Thady, whether it was the fineness
of the day, or the thoughts of the good dinner we
were to have, or the kindness of the mistress, that
made my heart so light, but I felt, anyhow, as gay
as any sky-lark. — Well, when we got up to the
house, there was every one of the people that's in
the work, men, women, and chUder, all come to-
gether in the yard ; and a pretty sight it was to
look upon, Thady — they were all so gay, and so
clean, and so happy,"

" True for you, Paddy, agrah ; and a fine
thing it is, too, to work with a real gentleman,
like the master. But tell us, avick, how it was
the mistress contrived to get the mass for yez:

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE HARYEST DINNER. 115

sure father Clanoejr^ hinwelf, or the coadjutor^
didn't come over ?**

'^ No, in troth didn't they ; hut the mistress
managed it hetter nor all that. You see^ Thady,
there 's a priest^ an old friend of the family's^ one
father Mullin^ on a visit this fortnight past^ up at
the hig house. He 's as gay a little man as ever
spoke^ only he 's a little too fond of the drop — the
more is the pity — and it 's whispered about amd&g
the servants^ that by means of it he has lost a pa-
rish he had down the country ; and he was on his
way up to Dublin^ when he stopped to spend a
few days with his old friends^ the master and
mistress.

^' Well, you see, the mistress, on Saturday,
without saying a- single word of it to any living
soul, writes a letter with her own hand, and sends
Tom Freen off with it to father Clancey, to' ax
him for a loan of the vestments. Father Cbmoey,
you know, is a mighty genteel man, and one that
likes to oblige the quality in any thing that does
not go against his duty ; and ^ad he was to have
it in his power to serve the mistress; and he sent
off the vestments with all his heart and lool^ and
as Civil a letter. Tommy Fxeen says — for he beard
the mistress reading it — as ever was peiuied^

^^ Well, th^e was an altar, you see, got up in
the hig hall, just between the two doors — if ever

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

116 TH£ HARVEST DINNEE.

3roa were in it — leadmg into the star&*rooin and
the room the childer sleep in; and when every
thing WBS ready we all came in> and the priest
gave lis aa good mass every fait as if we were up
at the chapel for it. The mistress and all the
fiunily attended themselves, and they stood just
within-side of the parlour-door; and it was really
surprising^ Thady, to see how decently they be-
haved themselves. If they 'd been all their lives
going to chapel they could not have behaved them-
selves better nor they did."

" Ay, Paddy^ mavounieen, I '11 be bail they
didn't skit and laugh the way some people would
be doing."

*' Laugh !-^not themselves, indeed ! They *d
more manners, if nothing else, nor to do that. —
Well, to go on with my story : when the mass
was over we wei£t strolling about the lawn and
place till three o'clock come, and th^i, you see,
the big bell rung out for dinner, and maybe
it was not we that were glad to hear it. So away
with us to the long bam where the dinner was
laid out ; and upon my conscience, Thady Byrne,
^ there 's not one word of lie in what I 'm going to
tell you ; but at the sight of so much victuals
every taste of appetite in the world left me, and
1 thought I 'd have fainted* down on the ground
that was under me« There was, you see, two

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

UIVNBR* 117

• whok length at the

^ upon ererj inch of

of beef^ md ronpt

^ boiled and roMt;

•nd hande cf pork,

here was cabbage

I knift and foik

«li at beer and

me of theoii and

In all my bom

on eooh a load

iddj ahayger,

I. Tear and

in the work

% flood «p

X up a rae

nent him

Be; for,

yet die

decent

fr Hi,

ftlM^

^.

d by Google

118 THE HARVEST DINNER.

selves that played away in grand style at the beef,
and the mutton, and the cabbage, and all the other
fine things. AniL there was Tom Freen, and all
the other servants waiting upon us, and hand-
ing us drink, just as if we were so many grand
gentlemen that were dining with the master. —
Well, you see, when we were about half done, in
walks the mistress herself, and the young master,
and the young ladies, and the ladies from Dublin
that's down on a visit with the mistress, just^ as
she said, to see if we were happy and merry over
our dinner; and then, Thady, you see, without
any body saying a single word, we all stood up like
one man, and every man and boy, with his full por-
ringer of porter in his hand, drank long life and
success to the mistress and master, and every one of
the family. — I don't know for others, Thady, but
for myself^ I never said a prayer in all my life more
fVom the heart; and a good right I had, sure,
and every one that was there, too; for, to say no-
thing of the dinner, is there the like of her in
the whole side of the country for goodness to the
poor, whether they 're sick or they 're well ? Would
not I myself, if it was not but for her, be a lone
and desolate man this blessed day?"

y It 's true for you, avick, for she brought Judy
through it better nor any doctor of them all."

/^ Well^ to mjake a long story short, we ate and

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

r'EST DINNER. 119

^d and we laughed^ till we
as it grew dusk we were
hall ; and there, yoU see,
r Tim Connel, the hlind
\ the women that could
1 for them down helow
me up to the hall, and
) for us all to sit upon,
of the parlour, and
z have made a good
; of yez, you see, and
S and it 's your own
uint evening/ So
hout for the mis*
the master took
'le of the floor to
footed it neatly,
ny Moran, and
ihlin young la-
ax her' out to
^, though he
he lady, stUl
er bid him ;
CI hit nnin*
htT tiut to
h&nd in a
he miiUlle
d up his

d by Google

120 THE HARVEST DINNER.

bK^he£(^ atid called out to Tim to blow up ^ The
Rocks of Cashel' for them^ And tken^ my jewels
if jOa were to see them ! Diimy flinging th^ legs
about as if they 'd fly from off him^ and the lady
now here now there^ just for all the world as if
she was a spirit, for not a taste of noise did «he
make on the floor that ever was heard ; and Dinny
oalHng out to Tim to play it up faster and faster^
and Tim almost working Ids elbow through the
bag, till at last the lady was fairly tired, and
Dinny clapped his haAds and called out P^gy
Reilly> and she atta^ed him boldly, and danced
down Dinnyi and then up got Johnny Regan,
and put her down completely. And since the
World was a world, I believe there never was
such daneSng se^."

^' The borrow the doubt of it> avick, I 'm cer-
t^ ; they 're all of them such real flne dancers.
And only to think of the lady dancing with the
likes of I>inny*1"

" Well, you see, poor old Paddj^ Byrne, when
he healrs that the women wete all to be there, in
he go^ into the padour to the mistress, and axes
her if he might make so bold as to go home and
feteh his woman. So the mistrelis, you see —
ihough you know Katty Byrne is bo great fa»
vdudte yi^itk her — ^a$ glad to ofalige Paddy, and
^ Katty Byrne was there too. And then old

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE HARVE«T DIVNSR«

Ml

Hugh Cmt M0d W otti to move • mitmei with
bin ; ftad th«re wm Hughi M itiff m if he had
dimtd upon erne of the ipiti, with hii U«ek wig
and hif long brown ooat» and hii blue tlcNsklngi,
moring abcmt with hb hat in hii hand^ and lead-
ing Katty abouti and looking io loft upon har ;
and Katty^ in her itiff molKcapi with the ears
pinned down under her chin^ and her little Uack
hat on the top of her head; and ihe at one comer
curcheying to Hugh, and Hugh at another bowing
to her, and w^ty body wondering at them, they
moved it io elegantly/'

'^ Troth, Paddy, avoumeen, that waa well
worth going a mile ot ground to iee/'

'* Well, you ece, when the dancing waa orer,
they took to the iinging, and Bill Carey gave the
* Wounded Huiiar' and the ' Poor but Honeit 8oL-
dler* in lueb ityle, that you 'd have heard him op
ilir Ur\% of Hl*ui ^Ai*y , \u\i\ Dlatiy Mi*ruii Jirul
r ui the Umii umyt,^ i\uj biuJ#
»uiig the OtHlikiTeii J^uti iirr m
plalllci pliiycd und %nn^
piirkiur like a iaUk%
<iM) jNfet to Uat^ii \^"

i[*mn by

tM' of

122 THE HARVEST DINNER.

shake under us ; but a body can't remember every
things you know. Well, yrhere was I ?— ob, ay !
— You see, my dear, the poor little priest was all
the night long going backwards and forwards,
every minute, between the parlour and the hall,
and the spirits, you see, was lying open upon the
sideboard, and the dear little man he couldn't
keep himself from it, but kept helping himself to
a drop now and a drop then, till at last he became
all as one as tipsy. So, then, he comes out into
the hall among us, and goes about whispering to
us to go home, and not be keeping the family out
ai their beds. But the mistress saw what he was
at, and she spoke out, and she said, ' Good people,'
says she, ^ never mind what the priest says to yez
— yez are my company, and not his, and yez are
heartily welcome to stay as long as yez like.' So
when he found he could get no good of us, he rolled
off with himself to his bed ; and his head, you see,
was so bothered with the liquor he 'd been taking
that he never once thought of taking off his boots,
but tumbled into bed with them upon him —
Tommy Freen told us when he went into the
room to look after him; and devil be in Tim,
when he heard it, but he lilts up the 'Priest in
his boots ;' and, Ood forgive us ! we all burst out
laughing ; for sure who could help it, if it was the
bishop himself?"

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THtfi IIAUVKIT OIKNXU* 128

" Troth it Willi a Nhame for yen, anyhow. But
Paddyi agrah, did yen come away at all ?"

" Why at laiit wo did, after another round of
punch to the glory and luccem of the family*
And nowi Thody^ comes the mott suqirisingest
imrt of tlic whole ftory. I wai all alonei you
ik*c ; for ray woman, you know, could not leave
the childur to come to the dance, lo, ai it wai a
f)ne mocmiihiny night, nothing would do me but
I muiit go out into the paddot'k to look after poor
IlainlK)w, the plough-bullock, that haa got a bad
ihouldcr ; ■() by that meanf, you ice, I misied the
company, and hail to go home all alone. Well,
you iH.*c, it wan out by the back gate I went, and
it waji then alxnit twelve in the night, af well ai
I could Judge by the plough, and tlie moon was
shining as bright as a silver dish, and there was
not a sound to lie heard but the scrcccliing of the
old owl down in the ivy-wall ; and I felt it all
pleasant, for I was somehow ratlier hearty with
the drink I'd Iwen taking; for you know, Thady
Byrne, I 'm a sober man."

" That 's no lie for you, Paddy, avick. A little,
as they say, goes a great way with you."

" Well, you sec, on I went whistling to my*
self mnae of the tunes they 'd Iwen singing, and
thinking of any thing, sure, but the good people ;
whm Juit as I came to the eomer of the planta-

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

124 THE HARVEST DINNER.

tion, and got a n^at of die big bush, I thought^
faith^ I saw some things moving backwards and
forwards^ and dancing like^ up in the bush. I
was quite certain it wa« the fairies that^ you know^
resort to it, for I could see^ I thought^ their little
red caps and green jackets quite plain. Well^ I was
thinking at first of going back and getting home
through the fields: but, says I to myself, what
should I be a£eard of? I 'm an honest man, says
I, ihat does nobody any harm ; and I heard mass
this momsDg ; and it 's neither Hollyeve, nor St.
John's eve, nor any other of their great days, and
they can do me no hurt, I 'm certain. So I made
the sign of the cross, and on I went in God's
name, till I came right under the bush; and
what do you think they were, Thady, after all ?"

*' Arrah, how can I tell ? But you were a
stout man anyhow, Paddy, agrah !"

" Why then, what was it but the green leaves
of the old bush and the red bunches of the haws
that were waving and shaking in the moonlight.
Well, on I goes till I came to the comer of the
<a;ab-road, when I happened to cast my eyes over
towards the little moat that is in the moat-field,
and thexe, by my sotvl! (God forgive me for
swearing) I saw the fairies in real eamQSt.^

** You did, then, did you ?" '

" Ay, by my fedth, did I, and a nughty pretty

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THK HARVSST DINNER. 125

lighfc it was too, I can tell you. The aide of the
moaty yoQ wee, thai looks into the field was open,
and out of it there came the darlintest little caval-
cade of the pnettiest little fellows you ever laid
your eyes upon. They were all dressed in green
hunting frocks, with nice little red caps on their
heads, and they were mounted on pretty little
long-tailed white ponies, not so big as young kids,
and they rode two and two so uioely. Well^ you
see, they took right across the field Just above
the sand-pit, and I was wondering in myself what
they 'd do when they came to the big ditch, thinking
they 'd never get over it. But I '11 tell yon what
it is, Thady, — Mr. Tom and the brown mare,
though they 're both of them gay good at either
ditch or wall, they 're not to be talked of in the
same day with them. They took the ditch, you
see, big as it is, in fuU stroke ; not a man of them
was shook in his seat or lost his rank ; it was pop,
pop, pop, over with them, and then, hurra!—
away with them like shot across the high field,
in thie direction of the old church.
W^U, my dear* while f wan fttraining my eyes
(After , 1 hcATu u grint rtimbling noise coming
^1* mtmt yrit] when I turned about to look at
( wee lut II grie-at c^d family coach
iM tlie nimi and making direct
xt:4nding. Well, says I,

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

126 THE HARVEST DINNER^

I 'm a lost man now anjliow. There was no use at
all^ you see^ in thinking to run for it^ for they were
driving at the rate of a hunt ; so down I got into
the gripe^ thinking to sneak off with myself while
they were opening the gate. But^ hy the laws !
the gate flew open without a soul laying a finger
to it^ the instant minute they came up to it^ and
they wheeled down the road just dose to the spot
where I was hidings and I saw them as plain as I
now see you ; and a queer sight it was^ too^ to see^
for not a morsel of head that ever was^ was there
upon one of the horses or on the coachman either^
and yet, for all that, Thady, the lord Liffenent'^
coach could not have made a handier or a shorter
turn nor they did out of the gate ; and the hlind
thief of a coachman, just as they were making the
wheel, was near taking the eye out of me with
the lash of his long whip, as he was cutting up
the horses to show off his driving. I 've my
douhts that the schemer knew I was there well
enough, and that he did it all on purpose. Well,
as it passed hy me, I peeped in at the quality
within-side, and not a head, no not as hig as the
head of a pin, was there among the whole kit of
them, and four fine footmen that were standing
hehind the coach were just like the rest of them."
^^ Well, to he sure, hut it was a queer sight."
" Well, away they went tattering along the

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE. HARVEST DINNER. 127

road^ making the fire fly out of the stcmefl at no
rate. So when I saw they 'd no eyes^ I knew it
was f/npossihle they could ever see me, so up I
got out of the ditch and after them with me along
the road as hard as ever I could drive. But when
I got to the rise of the hill I saw they were a
great way a-head of me, and had taken to the
fields, and were making off for the old church too.
I thought they might have some husiness of their
own there, and that it might not be safe for
strangers to be going after them ; so as I was by
this time near my own house, I went in and got
quietly to bed without saying any thing to the
woman about it ; and long enough it was before
I could get to sleep for thinking of them, and
that 's the reason, Thady, I was up so late thif
morning. But was not it a strange things
Thady?"

'^ Faith, and sure it was,* Paddy, ahayger, 9$
strange a thing as ever was. But are you quite
certain and sure now you saw them ?"

" Am I certain and sure I saw them ? Am I
certain and sure I see the noae there on your face ?
What was to ail me not to see them ? Was not
the moon shining as bri^t as day ? And did not
they pass within a yard of where I was ? And
did any one ever see me drunk or hear me tell a
lie ?"

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

128 THE HARVEST DIISTNER,

" It 's true for you, Faddy y no ojae ever did,
and mjself does not riglitly know what to say
to it."

The scene of the Harvest Dhiner ifes in Leinster;
and the nice observer will perceive some slight differ.-
ences between the language in it, and the Munster
dialect of the other tales. At the end of " the dra wing-
in," a sheaf very neatly bonnd up is sent in to " the
mistress," a symbol of the termination of her harvest
cares : as a matter of course, the bearer " gets a glass"
to drink her health, and a general inyitation to *' the
people in the work" follows.

Gossamers, a word used in the opening, Johnson
says, are the long white cobwebs which fly in the air
in calm sunny weather, and he derives the word from
the low Latin gossapium. This is altogether very
unsatisfactory. The goasamers are the cobwebs which
may be seen, particularly during a still autumnal
morning, in such quantities on the furae bushes, and
which are raised by the wiud aud floated through the
air, as thus exquisitely pictured by Browne in Britan-
nia's Pastorals :

'* The milk-white gossamers not upwards snowed."

Book II. Song 3.

Every lover of nature must have observed and ad-
mired the beautiful appearance of the gossamers in

t .

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE HABTEST DIKXES« 129

the extlf mesnmg, wlien cofcnd with dew-drops*
which, like prisDi^ Kpuate the nys of )%ht, ainl
shoot the blue, red, ydlow, and other colours of the
spectmin, in brilliant oonfusicHi. Of king Oberon we
are told —

'' A ridi mantle he did wear.
Made of tinsel gpssamer,
Bestarred over with a few
Diamond drops of morning dew."

The word gossamer is evidently derived from goss,
the gorse or furze. Qaery, Goss samyt ? Voss, in a
iiote to Luise, iii. 17, -says, that in Germany the po«
pular belief attributes the manufacture of the gossa*
mer to the dwarfs and elves.

There is something peculiarly pleasing in the terms
of afiection used by the lower orders of the Irish in
addressing each other; the expressions, agrah (my
love) and avick (my son) resemble the hijos and /iti-
manos of the Spaniards, and the fathers and sons of
the Hebrews and Arabs. It is curious that this otU
entalism, if it may be called such, should be only found
in Spain and Ireland. Perhaps its common origin lies
in warmth of aSection, of which no country affords
more instances than the one last mentioned. On turn-
ing over the unhappily too dark pages of Irish history,
the reader must be struck with meeting, in the space
of one reign, the deaths of no less than three persons
ascribed to grief for the loss of friends. One is an

PART II. X

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

130 THE HAftVEBT DIMNEIU

earl of KHdare^ who^ we are UM, pined and died when
death deprived him of his foster hrother. The cause
assigned tnsj not he the true one^ hut the hond of
affection must have heen strong in a country where
such could even he mentioned. Golownin gives an
instance of nearly similar strength of afibction among
the Japanese.

The perfection of singing, in the opinion of an Irish
peasant, consists in strength of lungs. '' A powerful
hass voice that could he heard at the top of a neigh-
houring mountain," carries off the palm of excellence,
and is sought after and listened to vdth enthusiasm.
The favourite songs ^splay no mean degree of popular
taste* Campheirs beautiful and pathetic ballad, men-
tioned in the tale, is an especial favourite ; and " Ade-
laide," and " the dark-rolling Danube," are as fami-
liar to the earsof the Irish peasantry as Ogle's *' Molly
Asthore," and " Banna*s banks*" As a farther proof of
their natural good taste, it may be mentioned, that of
the books printed and circulated by the Kildare Street
Society, none is found to equal in sale Elizabeth, or
the Exiles of Siberia. - The reader will probably call
to mind Gilbert Bumb' remarks on the kindred taste
of the Scottish peasantry. Much may be said re-
specting educating the lower orders, according to their
taste and through the medium of their superstitions,
as the most attractive and effectual modes of instruc-
tion. But the great question of national education is
one of too much importance to be trifled with in a
hastily written note.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THX HAKTXST DINNBE. 181

Tb« appctnaoe of tho £ilry hnslen hu mne re*
•embbiiee to the leletioii in M'Galloeh's Moomit of
the Highlandi end Watera Islei of jk»tla»d| foL W.
p. 358. " One Highlander, in pM*hig a moanuin,
hevethetnoipof honee, the music of the hom^ and
the cheering of the hunuman ; when luddenly a gal-
lant crew of thirteen fairy hunten, drened in green,
Bweep hy him, the silver hoMos of their hridlet Jin.
I^ng in the night breexe."

The ittbeequent attested statement has been trans-
mitted to the writer ftrom Ireland, among other Intel*
ligenoe of fairy proceedings there.

" The accuracy of the following story I can vouch
for, having heard it told several thnes by the person
who saw the circumstances.

" ' About twenty years back William Cody, chum*
boy to a perwn near Cork, had, after finishing his
day*8 work, to go through six or eight fields to his own
house, about 19 o'clock at night. He was passing
alongside of the ditch (Anglic«, hedge) of a large field,
and coming near a quarry, he heard a great cracking
of whips at the other side; he went on to a gap in the
same ditch, and out rode a little horseman, dressed in
green, and mounted in the best manner, who put a
whip to his breast and made him stop until several
hundred horseman, all drcMcd alike, rode out of the
gap at full speed, and swept round a glin : when the
last horseman was dear off, the sentinel dapt spurs
to his horse, gave three cracks of his whip, and was
out of sight in a second.'

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

132 THE HABVEST DIKNEE*^

^ The penon would swear to the ahove, at he was
quite lober and sensible at the time. The place had
always before the name of being very airy *."
{Signed) P. BATH.

Royal Ck>rk Institution^ Sd June^ 18?5.

* A lonesome place* in Scotland and Ireland, ii commonly said to
be " an airy place,** from airidke, which In Irish signifies spectres,
visions.

Sir Walter Scott, in Minstrels^jr of Scottish Border, vol. it ex-
plains this word " as producing superstitious dread."

In the hallad of Tamlane we find

" Gloomy, gloomy was the night.
And eiry was the way,** &c.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE DEATH COACH.

'Ti8 midnight ! — how gloomy and dark I
• By Jupiter there 's not a star I —
Tis fearful !— 'ti« awful !— and hark !
What sound is that comes from afar ?

Still rolling and rumbling, that sound
Makes nearer and nearer approach ;

Do I tremble> or is it the ground ? —
Lord save us ! —what is it ? — a coach !«

A coach ! — but that coach has no head ;

And the horses an; bcadk:JLi ua it ;
Of the driver the Haime m^i

And the passengertt Iniildie i

See the wheels! how thi.y Af

And whirl, as tlm whi,
Their spokes are of i]

And the pole ii tlt«i *

184 THE DEATH COACH.

The hammer-cloth^ shabby ddsp\3,y.
Is a pall rather mildew'd by damps ;

And to light this strange coach on its way.
Two hollow skulls hang up for lamps !

From the gloom of Rathcooney church-yard.
They dash down the hill of Glanmire ;

Pass Lota in gaUop as hard
As if horses were never to tire !

With people thus headless 'tis fun

To drive in such furious career ;
Since headlong their horses can't run.

Nor coachman be he<iddy from beer.

Very steep is the Tivoli lane,

But up-hill to them is as down ;
Nor the charms of Woodhill can detain

These DuUahans rushing to town.

Gould they feel as 1 *ve felt— in a song —

A spell that forbade them depart;
They 'd a lingering visit prolong.

And after their head lose their heart !

No matter ! — *tis past twelve o'clock;

Through the streets they sweep on like the
wind.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THB DJSATH COACH. 185

And, taking tlie road to Blackrock,
Cork city if lOon kft behind.

Should they hurry thus reckleif along.

To fupper instead of to bed,
The landlord will lurely be wrong,

If he charge it at so much a head !

Yet mine host may suppose them too poor
To bring to his wealth an increase ;

As till now, all who drore to his door,
Poasess'd at least one crown a-piece.

Up the Deadwoman's hill they are roU'd ;

Boreenmannah is quite out of sight ;
BalUntemple they reateh, and behold !

At its church-yard they stop and alight.

** Who 's there ?" said a Tdce from the ground ;

'' We Ve no room, for the place is quite full."
** O room must be speedily found.

For we come from the parish of SkulL

** Though Muxphys and Crowleys s^ypear
On headstones of deep-letter'd pride ;

Though Scannels and Murleys lie here,
Fitsgeralds and Toomies beside ;

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

136 THE DEATH COACH:

" Yet here for the night we lie down.
To-morrow we i^eed on the gale ;

For having no heads of our own.
We seek the Old Head of Kinsale."

The Death Coach is called in Irish " Coach a bower"
The time of its appearance is always midnight; and
when heard to drive round any particular house, with
the coachman's whip cracking loudly, it is said to he
a sure omen of death.

7 he following account of the Dullahans and their
coach was communicated to the writer hy a lady re-
sident in the neighbourhood of Cork :—

*' They drive particularly hard wherever a death is
going to take place. The people about here thought
that the road would be completely worn out with their
galloping before Mrs. Spiers died. On the night the
poor lady departed they brought an immense proces-
sion with them, and instead of going up the road, as
usual, they turned into Tivoli : the lodge-people, ac-
cording to their own account, ' were kilt from them
that night.' The coachman has a most marvellously
long whip, with which he can whip the eyes out of
any one, at any distance, that dares to look at him.
I suppose the reason he is so incensed at being looked
at, is because he cannot return the compliment, 'pon

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE DRATIl COACH. 197

ih€ *count of having no hetd. Whit t pity it ii none
hut the Dullahani can go without their heaili ! Home
people*! headi would bo no Iom to thorny or any ono
elie."

A like lupcritition to the circumstance of *' whip-
ping out the cyci/' is related by Mr. Thirle ai curn nt
in Denmark. IIo tella ua, that the opprcMlve lordii
of (ilorup drive every Chriatmaa night, in a itately
coach, from their magnificent tomb in Ht. Knud'a
church, in Odenae, to Olorup. The coach ia drawn
by aix white horaea, with long glowing tonguea ; and
he who darea not hide hia face when he hoari it
coming, atonea for hia raihncua with lots of aight.
Damkc Foiketaf^, vol. ii. p. 104.

" I cannot And," aayi a fair Welih corrrapondcnt,
** that we have any peculiar dcftignation for the hta<l-
leaa people beyond " Frnyuf hfh un j>fii,** the headlcpia
woman — " Crffyl heh un jicn" the headlcaa horw ;
further we have not aipired, nor have I heard that
thia headU'M race in Wales extends beyond an humble
horse. With us they have not assumed the same im*
portance aa in Ireland, by setting up their carriage/'

The localities mentioned in x\vr i^vrM^s tir^ ill %u ilw
immediate vicinity of the Hfy tif Cork. ^'''* *^ — "^
ception of Bkull and theOll \hm\ of I
of which lie on the cout of ttiat county.

THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN.

^^ OoD speed you> and a safe jouraey this night
to you, Charley/' ejaculated the master of the
little sheebeen house at Ballyhooley after his old
friend and good customer, Charley Culnane, who
at length had turned his face homewards, with
the prospect of as dreary a ride and as dark a night
as ever fell upon the Blackwater, along whose
banks he was about to journey.

Charley Culnane knew the country well, and,
moreover, was as bold a rider as any Mallow-boy
that ever rattled a four-year-old upon Drumrue
race-course. He had gone to Fermoy in the
morning, as well for the purpose of purchasing
some ingredients required for the Christmas din-
ner by his wife, as to gratify his own vanity by
having new reins fittt:' ' " * h he

intended showing i
ing St. Stephen's (

Charley did
for allEongh he ^
cular sort cjf fcUov

THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN. 139

the common occurrences of Iife> yet in all the ap<*
pointments connected with faiititingy. riding, leap-
ing^ in short, in whatever was connected with the
old mare, ^' Charley," the saddlers said, "was the
devil to pldse" An illustration of this fastidious-*
ness was afforded hy his going sudi a distance for
a snaffle hridle. MaUow was fall twelve miles
nearer Charley's farm (which lay just three quar<*
ters. of a. mile helow Carrick) than Fermoy ; hut
Charley had quarrelled with all the Mallow sad<»
dlers, from hard-working and hard-drinking Tim
Clancey,.up to Mister Byan, who wrote himself
''Saddler to the Duhallow Hunt;" and no on^
could content him in all particulars hut honest
Michael Twomey of Fermoy, who used to assert
— and who will douht it ? — that he could stitch a
saddle better than the lord-lieutenant^ although
they made him all ^s one as king over Ireland,

This delay in the arrangement of the snaffle
bridle did not allow Charley Culnane to pay so
long a visit as he had at first intended to his old
friend and gossip, Cpn Buckley, of the ''Harp of
Erin." Con, however, knew the value of time, and
insisted upon Charley making good use of what
he had to spare. '^ I won't bother you waiting
for water, Charley, because I think you 'U have
enough of that same before you get home ; so
drink off your liquor, man. It 's as good parlia^

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

140 THE HEADLESS HOBSEMAK.

ment as ever a gentleman tasted^ ajy and holy
church to, for it will bear " x waters,** and cany
the bead after that, may be."
, Charley, it must be confessed, nothing loth,
drank success to Con, and success to the jolly
<^ Harp of Erin," with its head of beauty and its
strings of the hair of gold, and to their better ac-^
quaintance, and so on, from the bottom of his soul,
until the bottom of the bottle reminded him that
Carrick was at the bottom of the hill on the other
side of Castletown Roche, and that he had got no
further on his journey than his gossip's at Bally-
hooley, dose to the big gate of Convamore. Catch-
ing hold of his oil-skin hat, therefore, whilst Con:
Buckley went to the cupboard for another bottle
of '^ the real stuff," he regularly, as it is termed,
bolted from his friend's hospitality, darted to the
stable, tightened his girths, and put the old mare
into a canter towards home.

The road from Ballyhooley to Carrick follows
pretty nearly the course of the Bltfckwater, oc-
casionally diverging from the river and passing
through rather wild scenery, when contrasted with
the beautiful seats that adorn its banks. Charley
cantered gaily, regardless of the rain which, as his
friend Con had anticipated, fell in torrents : the
good woman's currants and raisins were careftiUy
packed between the folds of his yeomanry doak.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE HKADLBSS HOtSEMAX. HI

which Charley, who w»s proud of slMWil^t ^Mt
he helonged to the ^ Rcprdi Mallow Light Hor»^
Volunteers," always stia^ped to the saddle he&ve
him, and took care never to destroy the uulitarr
effect of by putting it on. — Away he w«it singing
like a thrush —

** Sporting, belling, dancing, drinking.
Breaking windows — (hiccup !) — sinking ;
Ever raking — never thinking.

Live the rakes of Mallow.

^^ Spending faster than it comes.
Beating — {hiccup^ hie), and duns,
Duhallow's true-begotten sons.

Live the rakes of Mallow/*

Notwithstanding that the visit to the jolly '^ Harp
of Erin" had a little increased the natural com-
placency of his mind, the drenching of the new
saaSBe reins began to disturb him; and then
fc^Iowed a train of more anxious thoughts than
even were occasioned by the dreaded defeat of the
pride of his long-anticipated turn out on St. Stc^
phen's day. In an hour of good fellowship, when
his heart was warm, and his head not over cool,
Chadcy bad haefced the old mare against Mr.
Jeptoa^^ hay £0j Desdenuma for a neat hundred,'

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

142 THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN.

«

and he now fdt sore mi8giTing8.as to the pru*
dence of the match. In a less^ gay tone he con-
tinued

^' Living shorty but merry lives.
Going where the devil drives.
Keeping **

^\ Keeping" he muttered, as the old mare had re*
duced her canter to a trot at the bottom of Kil-
cummer Hill. Charley's eye fell on the old walls
that belonged, in former times, to the Templars ;
but the silent gloom of the ruin was broken only
by the heavy rain which splashed and pattered
on the gravestones. He then looked up at the
sky to see if there was, among the clouds, any
hopes for mercy on his new snaffle reins ; and no
sooner were his eyes lowered, than his attention
was arrested by an object so extraordinary as al-
most led him to doubt the evidence of his senses.
The head, apparently, of a white horse, with
short crapped ears, large open nostrils, and im-
mense eyes, seemed rapidly to follow. him. No
connexion with body, legs, or rider, could pos-
sibly be traced — the head advanced — Charley's
old mare, too, was moved at this unnatural sight,
and, snorting violently, increased her trot up the
hill. The head moved forward, and passed on ;

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN. 143

Charley pursuing it with astonished gaze, and
wondering by what means^ and for what purpose^
this detached head thus proceeded through the air,
did not perceive the corresponding body until he
was suddenly started by finding it close at his
side. Charley turned to examine what was thus
so sociably jogging on with him, when a most
unexampled apparition presented itself to his view.
A figure, whose lieight (judging as well as the
obscurity of the night would permit him) he com-
puted to be at least eight feet, was seated on the
body and legs of a white horse full eighteen hands
and a half high. In this measurement Charley
could not be mistaken, for his own mare was ex-
actly fifteen hands, and the body that thus jogged
alongside he could at once determine, from his
practice in horseflesh, was at least three hands
and a half higher.

After the first feeling of astonishment, which
found vent in the exclamation '^ I 'm sold now for
ever !" was over; the attention of Charley, being a
keetf sportsman, was naturally directed to this ex-
traordinary body, and having examined it with
the* eye of a connoisseur, he proceeded to recon-
noitre the figure so unusually mounted, who had
hitherto remained perfectly mute. Wishing to
see whether his companion's silence proceeded
from bad temper, want of conversational powers,

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

144 THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN. x

Or from a distate to water^ and the fear that the
opening of his mouth might subject him to have
it filled by the rain^ which was then drifting in
violent gusts against them^ Charley endeavoured
to catch a sight of his companion's face^ in order
to form an opinion on that point. But his vision
failed in carrying him further than the top of
the collar of the figbre's coat, which was a scarlet
single-breasted hunting frock, having a waist of
a very old fashioned cut reaching to the saddle,
with two huge shining buttons at about a yard
distance behind. ^' I ought to see farther thai^
this, too," thought Charley, " although he is
mounted on his high horse, like my cousin Darby,
who was made barony constable last week, unless
'tis Con's whiskey that has blinded me entirely."
However, see further he could not, and after
straining his eyes for a considerable time to no
purpose, he exclaimed, with pure vexation, '^ By
the big bridge of Mallow, it is no head at all he
has!"

" Look again, Charley Culnane," said a hoarse
voice, that seemed to proceed from under the right
arm of the figure.

Charley did look again, and now in the proper
place, for he clearly saw, under the aforesaid right
arm, that head from which the voice' had pro-
ceeded, and such a head no mortal ever saw before.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

TUV HKADLS88 HORSBMAK. U5

It looked like a large cream cheeie hung round
with Uack puddingi : no Rpeck of colour enlivened
the aihy paleneM of the depresied features; the
akin lay itretched over the unearthly lurface^
almost like the parchment head of a drum. Two
flory eyei of prodigioui circumference, with a
•trange and irregular motion, flashed like meteom
upon Charley, and a mouth that reached from
either extremity of two ears, which peeped forth
from under a profusion of matted locks of lustre*
less blackness. This head, which the figure hod
eWdently hitherto concealed from Charles eyes,
now burst upon his view in all its hideousness.
Charley, although a lad of proverbial courage
in the county Cork, yet could not but feel bin
nerves a little shaken by this unexpected visit
from the headless horseman, whom he considered
this figure doubtless must be. The cropped<>eared
head of the gigantic horse moved steadily for-
ward, always keeping from six to eight yards in
advance. The horseman, unaided by whip or
spur, and disdaining the use of stirrups, which
dangled uselessly from the saddle, followed at a
trot by Charley's side, his hideous head now lost

in oil iU i '<r iIm \ufrw* tuiiAi?if

Thia gnitind MhmtU
belli ami

jle

146 THE HXASLSSS H0B8X1IAX.

the water in the pools was agitated into waves as
he trotted Ir^ them.

On they went— heads with hodies^ and bodies
without heads. — The deadly silence of night was
broken only by the fearful clattering of hoofs^
and the distant sound of thunder^ which rumbled
above the mystic hill of Cecaune a Mona Finnea.
Charley, who was naturally a merry-hearted, and
rather a talkative fellow, had hitherto felt tongue-
tied by apprehension, but finding his companion
showed no evil disposition towards him, and having
become somewhat more reconciled to the Patago-
nian dimensions of the horseman and his headless
steed, plucked up all his courage, and thus ad-
dressed the stranger —

'^ Why, then, your honour rides mighty well
without the stirrups !"

*' Humph," growled the head from under the
horseman's right arm.

^' 'Tis not an over civil answer," thought Char-
ley; ^' but no matter, he was taught in one of
them riding-houses, may be, and thinks nothing
at all about bumping his leather breeches at the
rate of ten miles an hour. I '11 try him on the
other tack. Ahem!" said Charley, clearing his
throat, and feeling at the same time rather daunted
at this second attempt to establish a conversation.
^^ Ahem! that's a mighty neat coat of your, ho-

It

of
ax-

St

I'm ' jir -.^..'. - .J

-u: -grt — ^ - - ni

ins- -X- •----•' " • ad

— - • es

— '^"

^^ - ^t

_ id

es
p-*.- ^ - -

u-

vm

^ "" )i-

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

of

nd

he
la-

148 THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN.

" May be your honour wouldn't be after riding
him across the country ?"

" Will you try me, Charley ?" said the head,
with an inexpressible loA of ghastly delight.

« Faith, and that 's what I 'd do," responded
Charley, " only I 'm afraid, the night being so
dark, of laming the old mare, and I've every
, halfpenny of a hundred pounds on her heels."

' This was true enough, Charley's courage was
nothing dashed at the headless horseman's pro-
posal ; and there never was a steeple-chase, nor a
fox-chase, riding or leaping in the country, that
Charley Culnane was not at it, and foremost in it.
" Will you take my word," said the man who
carried his head so snugly under his right arm,
*' for the safety of your mare ?"

'^ Done," said Charley ; and away they started,
belter, skelter, over every thing, ditch and wall,
pop, pop, the old mare never went in such style,
even in broad daylight : and Charley had just the
start of his companion, when the hoarse voice
called out " Charley Culnane, Charley, man, stop
for your life, stop !"

". Charley pulled up hard. " Ay," said he, '* you
may beat me by the head, because it always goes
-so much before you; l)Ut if the bet was neck-and-
/neck, and that 's the go between the old mare and
Desdemona, I 'd win it hollow !"

Digitized by LjOOQ IC »

THB HEADLESS HOBSEMAK. 149

It appeared as if the stranger was well aware
of what was passing in Charle/s mind, for he
suddenly broke out quite loquacious.

'' Charley Culnane/' says he, " you have a stout
soul in you, and are every inch of you a good rider.
I 've tried you, and I ought to know ,* and that 's
the sort of man for my money. A hundred years
it is since my horse and I broke our necks at the
bottom of Kilcummer hill, and ever since I have
been trying to get a man that dared to ride with
me, and never found one before. Keep, as you
have always done, at the tail of the hounds, never
baulk a ditch, nor turn away from a stone wall,
and the headless horseman will never desert you
nor the old mare."

Charley, in amazement, looked towards the
stranger's right arm, for the purpose of seeing
in his face whether or not he was in earnest, but
behold! the head was snugly lodged in the huge
pocket of the horseman's scarlet hunting-coat.
The horse's head had ascended perpendicularly
above them, and his extraordinary companion
rising quickly after his avant courier, vanished
from the astonished gase of Charley Culnane.

Charley, as may be supposed, was lost in won-
der, delight, and perplexity; the pelting ram, the
wifis's pudding, the new snaffle — even the match
. WCM Ibrgofeten ; no-

Google

150 rUE HEADL

thing could he think o
but the headless horse
that he got home^ to J
ing morning to all th
it to the hunt on St
provoked him after a
scribing the head^ th
that one and all att
headless horseman t(
'' X water parliamen
be told^ that Charle/f
bay filly^ Desdemona,
pocketed his cool huo
by means of the head
don't know any other

It has been already -
the wild huntsman, usm
his arm.

Cervantes mentions ta
among the cuentos de vi
Juego las dilatadas nochi
part of the last century
unknown in Eng^d.
— " My friend the but
grave face, not to ventu
" aftet sunset, for that o

d by Google F*

T^£ HEADLESS HOBSEMAN. 151

almost frighteiiied out of his wits by a gpiiit that had
appeared to him in the shape of a black horse without
a head."

The horse^ probably^ like the dog, on account of
our iqtimacy with him^ is a fayourite actor in popular
superstition. The following story from (iervase of
Tilbury exhibits him in one of his mildest and most
beneficent al)pearances :

" Est in Anglia quoddam demonum genus quod
suo idiomate Grant nominant, ad instar pulM equiui
apniculi, tibiis erectum^ oculis sdntillantibus. Istnd
demonum genus sspissime comparet in plateis, in ip*
sius diei fervore, aut circa aolis ocdduum. Btquoties
apparet futurum in urbe ilia yd yico portendit in-
cendlum. Ciun ergo, sequente die yel nocte, instat
periculum, in plateis discursu facto canes provocat ad
latrandum, et dum fugam simulat sequentes canes
ad insequendum speyana oonsequendi inyitat. Hu-
jusmodi iUusio conyicaneis de ignis custodia cautelam
facit, et hie officiorum dsemonum genus, dum conspi-
dentes terret, suo adyentu mupure ignorantes solet."—
C. 62.

In Denmark an extraordinary custom prevailed of
burying a liye animal— a horse, a lamb, a pig, and
eyen a child— at the commencement of a buildiug.
It is strange that a similar custom appears, from the
Servian Ballads, to have prevailed among the Sla*
vonians. A lamb was generally entombed in the
foundation of a church ; a horse in that of the church-
yard. This horse, the peasants say, appears again and

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

152 THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN.

goes round the churchyard on three legs ; when he
meets any one he displays his grinning teeth — and
death accompanies him. He is therefore called the
Hdslhest*, the death-horse ; and it is usual for a person
on recovering from a fit of sickness^ to say — " I have
given Death a hushel of oats." Keysler (Antiq. Sept.
et Celt. p. 181) says ; ^* In ducatu Slesvicensi ea su-
perstitio etiamnum ohtinet^ ut Hel dicant mortem vel
spectrum tempore pestis equo (qui trihus tantum pe-
dihus incedit) inequitans mortalesque trucidans. Vico
vel oppido fatali hoc contagio afflato vulgus ait Helam
drcumire Der HeU geht umher. Canes etiam tum ah
ea inquietari indicant formula Der. HeU ist bey denen
Hunden." This last circumstance reminds us of the
classic Hecate^ the rest of the suhlime apparition of
Death on his pale horse in the Apocalypse.

• Hsl was the Pluto of the ancient ScandlnaTlans.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

FAIRY LEGENDS.

THE FIR DARRIG.

"WTiene'er such wanderers I meete,

As from their night-sports they trudge home,
With counterfeiting voice I gieete,
And call them on, with me to roame
Through woods, through lakes.
Through hogs, through brakes ;
Or else, unseene, with them X go,
All in the nicke.
To play some tricke.
And frolicke it, with ho, ho, ho !

Old Sokg.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

DIARMID BAWN, THE PIPER.

One stonnj night Patrick Burke was seated
in the chimney comer, smoking his pipe quite
contentedly after his hard day's work; his two
little hoys were roasting potatoes in the ashesj
while his rosy daughter held a splinter * to her
mother, who, seated on a siesteen t, was mending
a rent in Patrick's old coat ; and Judy, the maid,
was singing merrily to the sound of her wheel,
that kept up a heautiful humming noise, just like
the sweet drone of a hagpipe. Indeed they all
seemed quite contented and happy ; for the storm
howled without, and they were warm and snug
within, hy the side of a hlazing turf fire. ** I
was just thinking," said Patrick, taking the du«

* A splinter, or slip of bog-deal, which, being dipped in
tallow, is used as a candle.

t Siesteen is a low block-like seat, made of straw bapds
firmly sewed or bound together.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

156 DIABMID BAWN, THE PIPEB.

deen from his mouth and giving it a rap on his
thumb-nail to shake out the ashes — '^ I was just
thinking how thankful we ought to be to have a
snug bit of a cabin this pelting night over our
heads^ for in all my bom days I never heard the
like of it."

" And that 's no lie for you, Pat/' said his wife ;
'^ but, whisht ! what noise is that I hard ?" and
she dropped her work upon her knees, and looked
fearfully towards the door. " The Vargin herself
defend us all \" cried Judy, at the same time ra-
pidly making a pious sign on her forehead, ^^ if
'tis not the banshee !"

" Hold your tongue, you fool," said Patrick,
^^ it 's only the old gate swinging in the wind ;"
and he had scarcely spoken, when the door was
assailed by a violent knocking. Molly began to
mumble her prayers, and Judy proceeded to mut-
ter over the muster-roll of saints ; the youngsters
scampered off to hide themselves behind the settle-
bed; the storm howled louder and more fiercely
ttaxL ever, and the rapping was renewed with re-
doubled violence.

" Whisht, whisht !" said Patrick— '^ what a
noise ye 're all making about nothing at all. Judy '
a roon, can't you go and see who 's at the door ?"
for, notwithstanding his assumed bravery, Pat

dbyGoOSk

BiJimifID BAWX, THE, FITCS. 157

Burke prefiened dnt tibe anid dioold cpea die
door.

'^ Wlij^ then, if it me joa 'le ipemking to?*
said Judy, in die tone of aitomdiment ; '- and is
it cracked mad jon are, Mirter Bmke ; or is it,
maybe^ tbat you want me to be rmnd away widi,
and made a hone ei, like my grandfather was?—
the sorrow a step will I stir to opoi the door, if
you were as great a man again as ym are, Pat
Burke.*'

'^ Bother you^ then ! and hold your tongne, and
1 11 go myself." So saying, i^ got Patrick^ and
made the best of his way to die door. ** Who '»
there ?" said he^ and his voice trembled mightily
all the while. *' In the name of Saint Patrick^
who 's there ?" " 'Tis I, Pat," answered a voice
which he immediately knew to be the young
squire's. In a moment the door was opened, and
in walked a young man, with a gun in his hand,
and a brace of dogs at his heels. '' Your honour's
honour is quite welcome, entirely," said Patrick ;
who was a very civil sort of a fellow, especially
to his betters. *' Your honour's honour is quite
welcome ; and if ye '11 be so condescending as to
demean yourself by taking off your wet jacket,
Molly can give ye a bran new blanket, and ye can
sit forenent the fire while the clothes are dr}'ing."

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

158 diArmid bawn, the piper.

** Tliank you^ Pat/' said the squire^ as he wrapt
hunself^ like Mr. Weld^ in the proffered blanket.*

^' But what made you keep me so long at the
door?"

" Why, tlien, your honour, 'twas all along of
Judy, there, being so much afraid of the good
people ; and a good right she has, after what hap-
pened to her grandfather — ^the Lord rest his soul Y*

" And what was that, Pat ?" said the squire.

*' Why, then, your honour must know that
Judy had a grandfather; and he was ould Diar-
mid Bawn, the piper, as personable a looking man
as any in the five parishes he was ; and he could
play the pipes so sweetly, and make them spake
to such perfection, that it did one's heart good to
hear him. We never had any one, for that matter,
in this side of the country like him, before or since,
except James Gandsey, that is own piper to Lord
Headly — ^his honour's lordship is the real good gen-
tlen^an — and 'tis Mr. Gandsey's music that is the
pride of Killamey lakes. Well, as I was saying,
Diarmid was Judy's grandfather, and he rented a
small mountainy farm ; and he was walking about
the fields one moonlight night, quite melancholy-
like in himself for want of the Tohaccy; because,
why, the river was flooded, and he could not get
* See Weld's Killamey, 8vo ed. p. 228.

j^igitized by LjOOQ IC

BIABMID BAWN, THE PIPER. 159

across to buy any, and Diannid would rather go
to bed without his supper than a whiff of the
dudeen. Well, your honour, just as he came to
the old fort in the far field, what should he see ?
-^the Lord preserve us ! — ^but a large army of the
good people, 'coutered for all the world just like
the dragoons ! ^ Are ye all ready ?' said a little fel-
low at their head dressed out like a generaL ' No ;'
said a little curmudgeon of a chap all dressed in
red^ from the crown of his cocked hat to the sole
of his boot. ' No, general,' said he ; 'if you
don't get the Fir darrig a horse he must stay be-
hind, and ye 'U lose the battle."

" * There 's Diarmid Bawn,' said the general,
pointing to Judy's grandfather, your honour,
' make a horse of him.'

" So with that master Fir darrig comes up to
Diarmid, who, you may be sure, was in a mighty
great fright ; but he determined, seeing there was
no help for him, to put a bold face on the matter ;
and so he began to cross himself, and to say some
blessed words, that nothing bad could stand before.

" ^ Is that what you 'd be after, you spalpeen }'
said the little red imp, at the same time grinning
a horrible grin ; ' I 'm not the man to care a straw
for either your words or your crossings.* So, with-
out more to do, he gives poor Diarmid a rap with
the flat side of his sword, and in a moment he was

t .

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

160 diaUMid bawn, the pipee.

changed into a hone, with little Fir darrig stuck
fast on his back.

" Away they all flew over the wide ocean, like
so many wild geese, screaming and chattering all
the time, till they came to Jamaica ; and there
they had a murdering fight with the good people
of that country. Well, it was all very well with
them, and they stuck to it manfully, and fought
it ought fairly, 'till one of the Jamaica men made
a cut with his sword under Diarmid's left eye,
and then, sir, you see, poor Diarmid lost his tem-
per entirely, and he dashed into the very middle
of them, with Fir darrig mounted up on his back,
and he threw out his heels, and he whisked his
tail about, and wheeled and turned round and
round at such a rate, that he soon made a fair
clearance of them, horse, foot, and dragoons. At
last, Diarmid's faction got the better, all through
his means ; and then they had such feasting and
rejoicing, and gave Diarmid, who was the finest
horse amongst them all, the best of every thing.

" ' Let every man take a hand of Tobaccy for
Diarmid Bawn,' said the general; and so they
did ; and away they flew, for 'twas getting near
morning, to the old fort back again, and there
they vanished like the mist from the mountain. '

" When Diarmid looked about the sun was
rising, and he thought it was all a dream, till he

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

A&MID BAWV, THE PIPJCB. 161

k of Tohaoey is the dd fort, od fidt

'imiiig from hif left ejre; tx fure

f wounded in the battle^ and would

entirely, if it wasn't for a gotpel

ther Murphy that hung about hif

\e had the icarlet fever ; and for

ough to have given him another

we had the little red man all

vhip and spur for the bare life.

I the Tobaccy heaped up in a

e ; and he heard a voice, al-

no one, telling him^ 'That

hif good behaviour in the

'vcr Fir darrig would want

*w where to find a clever

a better than Diarmid

faid, fir."

\d the squire ; *' it cer-

r, and I am not fur-

it now, af the ftorm

* t#riglii)y, 1 11 make

Ho 4.iying, he dif.

ui m% bif coati and,

m Uie mountain ;

n, bawling after

V'iff{in preferve

tc good people;

u

\

d by Google

162 0IAEMID BAWK) THE PIPER.

for 'twas of a moonlight night like this that Diar-»
mid Bawn was made a horse of, for the Fir darrig
to ride.

Fir Darrig, correctly written,^ar dearg, means the
red man, and is a member of the fairy tribe of Ireland^
who bears a great resemblance to the Puck or Robin
Goodfellow of Shakspeare's days. Like that merry
goblin, his delight is in mischief and mockery ; and
numberless are the wild and whimsical stories in which
he figures. Although the German Kobolda parUke
of the good-natured character of the people, yet the
celebrated Hinzelman occasionally amused himself
with playing tricks somewhat similar to those of master
Fir darrig.

The red dress and strange flexibility of voice pos-
sessed by the Fir darrig form his peculiar character-
istics j the latter is said, by Irish tale-teneT£, to be as
Fuaim na dionUf the sound of the wave^ \ and again it
is compared to Ceol na j^^'f^"—^ the music of angelaj
Ceileahhar na nean, the mj birds» &»

the usual address to tlii«
JtHntif do not mock us,
seen, is invariably dascr
fairies generally i
itocaigh baniUi
suit, white ^

DIABMID BAWN) THE PIPKB. 168

The tnuitfonnation of Diannid into a hone if no
unoommon one. Circe oaed to trannonte people by
hundredi. Queen Labe and Co. in the Arabian
Nigfata were equally expert at metamorphoiet ; a
bone, by-the-bye, was the very form that queen gave
king Beder, who> however, had previoualy transformed
her majesty into a mare. King Carpalus, too, in the
old romance of Ogier le Dannoys, was condemned to
spend three hundred yean in the form of a horse, for
the resistance he made to king Arthur in Fairy land.

DiarmidBawn signifies white or fair Edward. "A
Gospel," to which he owes his preservation in the fairy
fight, is a text of scripture written in a particular
manner, and which has been blessed by a priest It
is sewed in red cbth, and hung round the neck as a
cure or preventive against various diseases, &c Few
Irish peasanto will be found without *' a gospel ;" or,
as in the vicinity of Holy Cross, a blessed string, a
blessed stone, or a blessed bit of wood, about their per-
SODS, which they consider to be an infallible safeguard
against eviL Indeed, the popuUr mind at the pre*
arut matiiint is full ^h creduloun in i}]c«c m4tt<n as it
tiafttly iwti ccnturit^ wUyci^ w!ku lord Brdghill
tfif ipclUiind civjiniis" among the

TEIGUE OP THE LEE.

'^ I can't stop in the house — I won't stop in it
for all the money that is hurled in the old castle
oi Carrigpohan. If ever there was such a thing
in the world ! — ^to he ahused to my face night and
day, and nohody to the fore doing it ! and then,
if I *m angry, to he laughed at with a great roar-
ing ho, ho, ho ! I won't stay in the house after
to-night, if there was not another place in the
country to put my head under." This angry soli-
loquy was pronounced in the hall of the old manor-
house of Carrigrohan hy John Sheehan. John was
a new servant ; he had heen only three days in the
house, which had the character of heing haunted,
and in that short space of time he had heen ahused
and laughed at, hy a voice which sounded as if a
man spoke with his head in a cask ; nor could he
discover who was the speaker, or from whence
the voice came. ^^ I '11 not stop here," said John ;
" and that ends the matter."

'' Ho, ho, ho ! be quiet, John Sheehan, or else
worse will happen to you."

John instantly ran to the hall window, as the

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

TXIGUS OF THS LIS. 165

words were eyidently spoken by a penoA ixnme*
diatelj otttside» but lao one was visible. He bad
scarcely placed bis face at tbe pane of glass^ wbea
be beard another loud '' Ho, bo^ bo !" as if bebind
him in tbe ball ; as quick as ligbtning be turned
bis bead, but no living tbing was to be seen*

^^ Ho, bo, bo, John !" sbouted a voice tbat ap*
peered to come from tbe lawn before tbe bouse ;
^* do you tbink you 'U see Teigue ?— ob, never !
as long as you live 1 so leave alone looking after
bim, and mind your business ; tbere 's plenty of
company to dinner from Cork to be bere to*day,
and 'tis time you bad tbe dotb kid."

'^ Lord bless us ! tbere 's more of it I— 1 11 tever
stay anotber day bere," repeated Jobii.

'^ Hdjd your tongue^ and stay wbere yon ave
quietly, and play no tridks on Mr* Fratt^ at you
did on Mr. Jarvois about tbe qpoons."

J(^n Sbeeban was eonfouaded by tliis Mwm
from bis invisible persecutor, but nevcrflnlfis he
mustered courage enough to siy--^<Whdaf)eywt?
•^-eome bes^ and let aie see yon^ if yon aceft AMU ^
but be received in reply only a hn/^ of uimuiM|
derision, wbieb was ioOawti by a*^flflgJty# ■
I 'U watcb yon at dinner, Jdmr

'' Lord between m and hmmi Ak hmm atti
.^111 watdiyoo ai ibuKri«*-^flMifrheyeii wMf^
'ijs tbe broad day-lifH •o'ikmo f^ $ %m Ak

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

166 TEIGUE 07 THE LEE.

is a terrible place^ and this is the last day I '11 stay
in it. How does he know about the spoons ? — ^if
he tells it^ I 'm a ruined man ! — ^there was no
living soul could tell it to him but Tim Barrett^
and he 's far enough off in the wilds of Botany-
Bay now^ so how could he know it — I can't teU
for the world ! But what 's that I see there at
the comer of the wall ! — ^'tis not a man ! — oh, what
a fool I am ! 'ds only the old stump of a tree ! — But
this is a shocking place — I '11 never stop in it, for
1 11 leave the house to-morrow ; the very look of
it is enough to frighten any one."

The mansion had certainly an air of desolation ;
it was situated in a lawn, which had nothing to
break its uniform level, save a few tufts of nar-
cissuses and a couple of old trees coeval with the
building. The house stood at a short distance
from the road, it was upwards of a century old,
and Time was doing his work upon it ; its walls
were weather-stained in all colours, its roof showed
various white patches, it had no look of comfort ;
all was dim and dingy without, and..within there
was an air of gloom, of departed and departing
greatness, which harmonised weU with the ex-
terior. It required all the exuberance of youth
and of gaiety to remove the impression, almost
amounting to awe, with which you trod the huge
I square hall^ paced along the gallery which sur-

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

TEIGUE OF THE LEE. ICT

rounded the hall^ or explored the long rambling
passages below stairs. The ball-room^ as the lai^
drawing-room was called^ and several other apart-
ments were in a state of decay ; the walls were
stained with damp^ and I remember well the sensa-
tion of awe which I felt creeping oyer me when^
boy as I was^ and fidl of bo3ri8h life^ and wild and
ardent spirits^ I descended to the vaults ; all with-
out and within me became chilled beneath their
dampness and gloom — their extent^ too^ terrified
me ; nor oould the merriment of my two schooU
fellows^ whose father^ a respectable clergyman^
rented the dwelling for a time^ dispel the feelings
of a romantic imagination until I once again
ascended to the upper regions.

John had pretty well recovered himself as the
dinner-hour approached^ and several guests ar-
rived. They were all seated at taUe^ and had
begun to enjoy the excellent repast^ when a voice
was heard in the lawn.

'' Ho, ho, ho, Mr. Pratt, won't you give poor
Teigue som^ dinner? ho, ho, a fine company
you have there, and plenty of every thing that 's
good ; sure you won't forget poor Teigue ?"

John dropped the ^aas he had in his hand.

" Who is that?" said Mr. Pratt's brother, an
officer of the artillery*

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

168 TEIGUE OF THE LEE.

^' ThsA, 18 Teigae/' said Mt. Pratt, langlxixig,
^^ whom ytm must ofi^n have heard me mentien."

'' And pray, Mr. Pratt/' inqmired another gcn^
tlaaian, " who is Teigue?"

^' That," he replied, *^ is more than I can teU.
No one has ever been sUe to eatch even a giirapse
of him* I have heen on the wateh lor a whole
evening with three of my son% yet, although his
Tinee soanetimes: sotiEoded almost in my ear, I could
not see him. I fasieied, iaideed, that I saw a man
in a white &k2e jacket pass into the door from
the garden to the kwn, but it could be only fancy,
for I found the door locked, while the fellow,
whoever he £b, was laughing^ at our trouble. He
visits us occasionally,, and sometimes a long in-
terval paises between hda visits, cop in the present
case ; it is now nearly two years since we heard
that .hdlow voice outside the window. He has
never done any injury that we know of, and once
when he broke a plate, he brougl^t one bade exactly
like it."

^ It is very extraordinary/' said several of the
company.. ^

** But," remarked a gentleman to young Mr.
Pratt, ^ your father said he broke a plate; how
did be get it without your seeing him?"

** When he asks for some dinner, we pot it

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

TEIGTTE OF THE LEE. 169

outside ^ae window and go awayj wbilst we
watch he will not take it, but no sooner kave we
withdrawn than it is gone."

^' How does he know that yoa are watching?"
" That 's more than I can tell, but he either
knows or suspects. One day mj brothers Bobert
and James with myself were in our back parlour,
which has a window into the garden, when he
came outside and said, ^ Ho, ho, ho ! master Junes,
and Robert, and Henry, give poor Teigue a glass
of whiskey/ James went out of the room, filled a
glass with whiskey, vinegar, and salt, and brought
it to htm. ' Here, Teigue,' said he, ' come for it
now.' ' Well, put it down, then, on the step out-
side the window.' This was done, and we stood
looking^at it ' There, now, go away,' he shouted.
We setiredy but still watched it. ' Ho, ho f you
are watching Teigue ; go out of the room, now,
or I won't take it.' We went outside the door
and returned, the glass was gone, and a moment
after we heard him roaring and cursing fright-
fiilly. He took away the glass^ but the next day
the glass was on the stone step under the window;,
and there were Gruns of bread in the inside, as if
he had put it in his pocket; from that time he
was not heard till to-day."

^ Oh," said the odonel, '' 111 get a sight of
him; jxm m» not vuei to these things; an old

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

170 TJSIGUE OF THE LEE.

soldier has the hest chance^ and as I shall finish
my dinner with this wing^ I 'U he ready for him
when he speaks next. — Mr. Bell^ will you take a
glass of wine with me ?"

" Ho, ho ! Mr. Bell/' shouted Teigue. " Ho,
ho ! Mr. Bell, you were a quaker long ago. Ho,
ho ! Mr. Bell, you 're a pretty hoy ; — a pretty
quaker you were ; and now you 're no quaker,
nor any thing else: — ^ho, ho! Mr. Bell. And
there 's Mr. Parkes : to he sure, Mr. Parkes looks
mighty fine to-day, with his powdered head, and his
grand silk stockings, and his bran new rakish«red
waistcoats — ^And there 's Mr, Cole, — cBd you ever
see such a fellow ? a pretty company you ' ve brought
together, Mr. Pratt i kiln-dried quakers, butter-,
buying buckeens from Mallow-lane, and a drinking
exciseman from the Coal-quay, to meet the great
thundering artiUery-general that is come out. of
the Indies, and is the biggest dust of them all."

*^ You scoundrel !" exclaimed the colonel : " I'll
make you show yourself;" and snatching up his
sword from a comer of the room, he sprang out
of the window upon the lawn. In a moment a
shout of laughter, so hollow, so unlike any human
sound, made him stop, as well as Mr. Bell, who
with a huge oak stick was dose at the colonel's
heels ; others of the party followed on the laWn,
and the remainder rose and went to the windows*

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

. TEIGUE OF THE LEE. Hi

^' Come on^ colonel^" said Mr. Bell ; '^ let us catch
this impudent rascal."

'^ Ho^ ho ! Mr. Bell^ here I am — ^here 'i Teigue
—why don't you catch him? — Ho, ho! colonel
Pratt, what a pretty soldier you are to draw your
sword upon poor Teigue, that neyer did any body
harm."

" Let us see your face, you scoundrel," said the
colonel.

^' Ho, ho, ho ! — ^look at me — ^look at me : do
you see the wind, colonel Pratt ? — ^you 11 see
Teigue as soon ; so go in and finish your dinner."

'^ If you 're upon the earth I '11 find you, you vil-r
lain !" said the colonel, whilst the same unearthly
shout of derision seemed to come from behind an
angle of the building. " He 's round that comer,"
said Mr. Bell—'' run, run."

They followed the sound, which was con^nued
at intervals along the garden wall, but could dis-
cover no human being; at last both stopped to
draw breath, and in an instant, almost at their
ears, sounded the shout.

" Ho, ho, ho ! colonel Pratt, do you see Teigue
now ?— do you hear him ? — Ho, ho, ho ! you 're
a fine colonel to follow the wind,"

" Not that way, Mr. Bell — ^not that way ; come
here,'' said the coloneL

^' Ho, ho, ho ! what a fool you are ; do you

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

172 TEIGUE OF THE LEE.

think Teigue is going to show himself to you in
the field, there ? But, colonel, follow me if you
can : — you a soldier ! — ^ho, ho, ho !** The colonel
was enraged — ^he followed the voice oyer hedge
and ditch, alternately laughed at and taimted by
the unseen object of his pursuit— >(Mr. Bell> who
was heavy, was soon thrown out), until at length,
after being led a weary chase, he found himself
at the top of the diff, over that part of the river
Lee which, from its great depth, and the blackness
of its water, has received the name of Hdil-hdie.
Here, on the edge of the diff, stood the colonel
out of breath, and mopping his fordxead with his
handkerchief, while the voice^ which seemed dose
at his feet, exdaimed-— ^^ Now, colonel Pratt*—
now, if you 're- a soldier, here 's a leap for yon ;—
now look at Teigue — why don't you look at him ?
— Ho, ho, ho ! Come aUmg ; you 're warm, I 'm
sure, colonel Pratt, so come in and cool yourself;
Teigue is going to have a swim !" The voice seemed
as descending amongst lihe trailing ivy and brash-
wood which clothes this picturesque diff nearly
from top to bottom, yet it vras impossible that any
human being could have found footii^. '^ Now,
coloiid, have you courage to take the leap ?— Ho,
ho, ho ! what a pretty sddieryou are. Good-bye
— I '11 see you again in ten minutes above> at the
house — ^look at your watch, colonel :'-«-there 's a

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

TEIGUE OF TH£ LEE. 178

dire for you ;" and a hmrj plunge into tlie water
was heard. The oolond stood stilly but no sound
followed^ and he walked ilowly back to the housei
not quite half a mile from the Crag."

'' Well, did you we Teigue P" said hia brother,
whilf t his nephews, scarcely aUe to smother their
laughter, stood by.—'' Give me some wine/' said
the coloneL " I nerer was led such a dance in
my life; the fellow carried me all round and
round, till he brought me to the edge of the cliff,
and then down he went into Hell*hole, telling me
he 'd be here in ten minutes : 'tis more than that
now, but he 's not come.'*

" Ho, ho, ho I colonel, isn't he here ? — Teigue
never told a lie in his life : but, Mr. Pratt, give
me a drink and my dinner, and then good night
to you all, for I 'm tired ; and that 's the colonel's
doing." A plute of food was ordered; it was
placed by John, with fear and trembling, on the
lawn under the window. Every one kept on the
watch, and the plate remained undisturbed for
Kome time.

" Ah I Mr. Pratt, will you starve poor Teigue ?
Make every one go away from the windows, and
master Henry out of the tree, and master Richard
off the goi^dcn wall,"

The eyes of the company were turned to the
i Ihe garden wall ; the two boys' attention

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

174 TEIGUE OF THE LEE*

Was occupied in getting down ; the yisitors were
looking at them ; and ^' Ho^ ho^ ho^! — good luck to
jou^ Mr. Pratt !-^'tis a good dinner^ and there 's
the plate^ ladies and gentlemen — good-b^e to you^
colonel ! — good-bye, Mr. Bell ! — ^good-bye to you
all-' — ^brought their attention back, when they saw
the empty plate lying on the grass ; and Teigue's
.voice was heard no more for that evening. Many
visits were afterwards paid by Teigue; but never
was he seen, nor was any discovery ever made of
his person or character.

The pranks of Teigue resemble those related by
Gervase of Tilbury of the spirit called FoUet, which
he describes as inhalnting the houses of ignorant rus-
tics, and whose exorcisms fail in banishing him. He
says of the Folletos :

<^ Verba utique humano more audiuntur et effigies
non comparent. De istis pleraque miracula memini me
in vita ahbreviata et miraculis beatissimi Antonii repe^
risse," — Otia Imperalia, p. 897.

Their voices may be heard in human fashion, but
their form is not visible. I remember to have read a
great many marvels about them in the short life and
miracles of the blessed Anthony.

The evening previous to sending this note to press,
it was the writer's good fortune to meet major Percy

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

TEIGUE OF THE LEE. 175

Pratt, son of the colonel (afterwaxds general) Bratt
mentioned in the tale, who related to Sir Williain
Beeiham, and repeated to him, all the particulan of
this strange story. Several respectaUe perams in the
south of Ireland have favoured him with accounts of
Teigue, but they are so nearly similar that it be«
comes unnecessary to give them. One of these ac-
counts, however, received from Mr. Newenham de la
Cour, contains some few circumstances which have
been omitted in the forgoing relation :

'' I never heard/' writes Mr. de la Cour, " of a more
familiar goblin than Teigue. His visit generally com*
menced with a civil salutation to the master of the
house, which was quickly followed by an application
for a glass of whiskey; but no human creature could
be seen or found in the quarter from whence the voice
proceeded. These visits were usually repeated once
a week ; sometimes, however, a month or more elapsed
between them. If any friend came to dine or to stay
at the house for a few days, Teigue was sure to be
heard in the evening accosting them in a very courteous
manner, inquiring after the di£ferent members of their
family, and often mentioning domestic occurrences
with a surprising intimacy. If a stranger happened
to excel in music, this could not escape the penetration
of Teigue, who seemed to be familiar with every per*
son's acquirements and habits ; and he invariably re-
quested the musician to play or sing. A young lady
from Youghall was once called on by Teigue to favour
bim with a tune: she sat down to the pianoforte all

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

176 TEIGUE OF THE LEE.

fear and trembling. When she had coaduded, Teigue
applauded her performance, and said^ in retom, he
would treat her to a song to the best of his ability.
He accordingly sung, with a most jtremendous voice^
'My name is Teigue, and I lives in state;* a com-
position well known in the south of Ireland.

" Several cleverly concerted plans have been fmmed
for the discovery of this strange being, yet they all
fuled of their olgect. Two differait and contradictory
opinions prevail respecting Teigue: some people re-
port him to be a giant, others a dwarf; the former
opinion is founded on the following circumstance : —
Amongst the ingemous methods devised for deciding
whether the voice might be that of a mortal man or a
goblin was the plan of strewing carefully some fine
ashes at twilight before the windows. That night
Teigue was unusually noisy without ; and the next
morning early, when the place was in^cted, the print
of one foot only^ of superhuman dimensions, was found.
The notion of his being a dwarf rests on no less an
Authority than Teigue himself. He frequently styled
himself Teigueen^ or little Teigue; yet this diminu-
tive may be nothing more than a pet name. But on
one occasion, when some guests expressed their sur-
prise that master Teigue had never been caught, this
curious, being replied^ ' 'Tis to no use at all, gentle-
men, you 're thinking of cafohing poor Teigueen, for
he is no bigger than your thumb !' All those who
have heard him speak agree in this, that the sound of
his voice was not in the least like that of ordinary mor-

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

TEIGUE OF THE I^£. 177

tals; it resembled, they sud, that hollow hoarse kind
of voice emitted by a man speakii^ with his head (as
a gallant English officer has described it^ indoaed in
an empty cask.*'

Connected*with the belief o^ sapernatmal Toiees, a
common superstitions notion may be worth mention-
ing here. It is popularly beliered in Ireland^ and
possibly in other countries, that when a friend or re-
lative dies a warning voice is heard, and the greater
the space between the parties the more certain the
sound. The following is an attempt at translating
an Irish song founded on this idea, which is sung to a
singularly wild and melancholy air :

A low soimd of song from the distance I hear.
In the silence of night, breathing sad on my ear !
AVlience comes it ? I know not — ^unearthly the note.
And uneibrthly the tones through the air as they float ;
Yet it sounds like the lay that my mother once sung.
As o'er her first-bom in his cradle she hung.

Long parted from her, far away from her home,
'Mong people that speak not her language I roam :
Is it she that sends over the billowy sea
This low-breathing murmur of sadness to me !
Wliat gives it the power thus to shake me with dread ?
Does it say, that sad voice, that my mother is dead ?

PART II. N

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

NED SHEEHY'S EXCUSE.

Ned Sheehy was servant-man to Richard
Gumbleton, esq. of Mountbally, Gumbletonmore,
in the north of the county of Cork ; and a better
servant than Ned was not to be found ^n that
honest county^ from Cape Clear to the Kilworth
Mountains; for no body — ^no^ not his worst enemy,
could say a word against him, only that he was ra-
ther given to drinking, idling, lying, and loitering,
especially the last, for send Ned of a five minute
message at nine o'clock in the morning, and you
were a lucky man if you saw him before dinner.
If there happened to be a public-house in the way,
or even a little out of it, Ned was sure to mark it
as dead as a pointer; and knowing every body,
and every body liking him, it is not to be won-
dered at he had so much to say and to hear, that
the time slipped away as if the sun somehow or
other had knocked two hours into one.

But when he came home, he never was short
of an excuse ; he had, for that matter, five hun-
dred ready upon the tip of his tongue, so much
so, that I doubt if even the very reverend doctor

%

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

NED 8HEEHY*S EXCUSE. 179

Swift, for many yean Dean of St. Patrick's, in
DuUin, could match him in that particular, though
his reverence had a pretty way of his own of writ-
ing things which brought him into very decent
company. In fact, Ned would fret a saint, but
then he was so good-humoured a fellow, and really
so handy about a house, for, as he said himself, he
was as good as a lady's-maid, that his master
could not find it in his heart to part with him.

In your grand houses — not that I am saying
that Richard Oumbleton, esquire, of Mountbally,
Oumbletonmore, did not keep a good house, but
a plain country gentleman, although he is second
coualn to the last hi^-sherifif of the county, can-
not have all the army of servants that the lord-
lieutenant has in the castle of Dublin — I say, in
your gmnd houses, you can have a servant for
every kind of thing, but in Mountbally, Gum-
hletanmore, Ned was expected to please master

iii,— by

uA^.^i iUe cipunirllar wm a little dark

there, on hi^ way to

[wii* inlni&tcr for the

Neil Sheehy

one tno, and

Inirst?; he

^Ic it.

180 NED sheehy's excuse.

or do any thing with it but make it speak — he
was a second whisperer ! — there was not his match
in the barony, or the next one neither. A pack
of hounds he could manage well^ ay, and ride
after them with the boldest man in the land. It
was Ned who leaped the old bounds ditch at the
turn of the boreen of the lands of Reenascreena,
after the English captain pulled up on looking at
it, and cried out it was " No go." Ned rode that
day Brian Boro, Mr. Gumbleton's famous chesnut,
and people call it Ned Sheehy's leap to this hour.

So, you see, it was hard to do without him ;
however, many a scolding he got, and although
his master often said of an evening, " I '11 turn off
Ned," he always forgot to do so in the morning.
These threats mended Ned not a bit ; indeed he
was mending the other way, like bad fish in hot
weather.

One cold winter's day, about three o'clock in
the afternoon, Mr. Gumbleton said to him,

'* Ned," said he, " go take Modderaroo down
to black Falvey, the horse-doctor, and bid him
look at her knees, for Doctor Jenkinson, who rode
her home last night, has hurt her somehow. I
suppose he thought a parson's horse ought to go
upon its knees ; but, indeed, it was I was the fool
to give her to him at all, for he sits twenty stone
if he sits a pound, and kftows no more of riding.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

Ai- V

MED SH£EHY*8 EXCUSE. 181

particularly after his third bottle^ than I do of
preaching. Now mind and be back in an hour
at furthest, for I want to have the plate cleaned
up properly for dinner, as sir Augustus O'Toole,
you know, is to dine here to-day .«~Don't loiter
for your life."

" Is it I, sir r says Ned. '' Well, that beats
any thing; as if I'd stop out a minute!" So
mounting Modderaroo, off he set.

Four, five, six o'clock came, and so did .sir Au-
gustus and lady O'Toole, and the four misses
O'Toole, and Mr. O'Toole, and Mr. Edward
O'Toole, and Mr. James O'Toole, which were
all the young O'Tooles that were at home, but
no Ned Sheehy appeared to dean the plate, or
to lay the taUe-cloth, or even to put dinner on.
It is needless to say how Mr. and Mrs. Dick
Gumbleton fretted and fumed, but it was all to
no use. They did their best, however, only it
was a disgrace to see long Jem the stable-boy,
and Bill the gossoon that used to go of errands,
waiting, without any body to direct them, when
there was a real baronet and his lady at table,
for sir Augustus was none of your knights. But
a good bottle of claret makes up for much, and it
was not one only they had that night. However
it is not to be concealed that Mr. Dick Gumbleton
went to bed very cross, and he awoke still crosser.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

182 NED sheehy's excuse.

He heard that Ned had not made his appear-
ance for the whole nighty so he dressed himself
in a great fret^ and taking his horsewhip in his
hand he saidj

'^ There is no further use in tolerating this
scoundrel; I'll go look for him, and if I find
him, I '11 cut the soul out of his vagabond body !
I wiUby— "

" Don't swear, Dick dear," said Mrs. Gum-
bleton* (for she was always a mild woman, being
daughter of fighting Tom Crofts, who shot a
couple of gentlemen, friends of his, in the cool
of the evening, after the Mallow races, one after
the other), " don't swear, Dick, dear," said she,
^^ but do, my dear, oblige me by cutting the flesh
off his bones, for he richly deserves it. I was
quite ashamed of lady O'Toole, yesterday, I was,
'pon honour."

Out sallied Mr. Gumbleton ; and he had not far
to walk ; for not more than two hundred yards
from the house, he found Ned lying fast asleep
under a ditch *, and Modderaroo standing by him,
poor beast, shaking every limb. The loud snoring
of Ned, who was lying with his head upon a stone
ais easy and as comfortable as if it had btseii a bed
of down or a hop-li..^/.

NED 8HEEHY*8 EXCUSE. 183

Mr. Oumbleton at once perceived^ from the dis*
amy of Ned's face and person, that he had been
engaged in some perilous adventure during the
night. Ned appeai'ed not to have descended in
the most regukr manner, for one of his shoes re-
mained sticking in the stirrups, and his hat, having
roUed down a little slope, was imbedded in green
mud. Mr. Oumbleton, however, did not give him-
self much trouble to make a curious survey, but
with a vigorous application of his thong soon ba-
nished sleep from the eyes of Ned Sheehy.

** Ned," thundered his master in great indigna-
tion ; and on this occasion it was not a word and
blow, for with that one word came half a dozen.
" Oet up, you scoundrel," said he.

Ned roared lustily, and no wonder, for his mas-
ter's hand was not one of the lightest ; and he
cried out, between sleeping and waking — " O, sir !
--4on't be angry, sir !— don't be angry, and I '11
roast you easier—easy as a lamb !"

'' Roast me easier, you vagabond f" said Mr.
Ghimbleton ; '* what do you mean ? — 1 11 roast
you, my lad. Where were you all night ? — Mod-
deraroo will never get over it. — Pack out of my
service, you worthless villain, this moment ; and,
indeed, you may give God thanks that I don't get
you transported."

rQod, master, dear," said Ned, who
^^^^^>W Digitized by Google

184 NED sheehy'^s excuse.

was now perfectly awakened — '* it 's jomself any-
how. There never was a gentleman in the whole
county ever did so good a turn to a poor man as
your honour has heen after dcnng to me: the
Lord reward you for that same. Oh ! hat strike
me again, and let me feel that it is yourself^ mas-
ter^ dear ;— ^nay whiskey he my poison — "

'' It will he your poison^ you good-for-nothing
scoundrel/' said Mr. Gumhleton.

'' Well^ then^ may whiskey he my poison," said
Ned, '^-if 'twas not I was — God help me ! — ^in the
hlackest of misfortunes, and they were hefore me,
whichever way I turned 'twas no matter. Your
honour sent me last ni^t, sure enough, with
Moddezaroo to mister Falvey's — ^I don't deny it
— why should I ? for reason enough I have to re-
member what happened."

'^Ned, my man," said Mr. GumUeton, ^' I 'U
listen to none of your excuses : just take the mare
into the stable and yourself oE, for I vow to — "

*^ Bering your honour's paidcm," said Ned,
earnestly, '' for interrupting your honour ; but,
master, master! make no vows — ^they are bad
things: I never made but one in all my life,
which was to drink nothing at aU for a year and
a day, and 'tb myself reptnted of it for the dean
twelvemonth after. But if your honour would
only listen to reason ; I '11 just take in the poor

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

batte, and if your honour don't pardon me thif
one time may I never lee another day's luck or
grace."

** I know you, Ned/' laid Mr. Oumbleton.
" Whatever your hick haa been, you never had
any grace to lote : but I don't intend diicuaiing
the matter with you. Take in the mare> sir."

Ned obeyed^ and his master saw him to the
stably Here he reiterated his commands to quit^
and Ned 8heehy's excuse for himself began. That
it was heard uninterruptedly is more than I can
affirm; but as interruptions, like explanations,
spoil a story, we must let Ned tell it his own
way,

*' No wonder your honour," said he, *' should be
a bit angry — grand company coming to the house
and all, and no regular serving-man to wait, only
long Jem ; so I don't blame your honour the least
for being fretted like ; but when all 's heard, you
will see that no poor man is more to be pitied
for last night than myself. Fin Mac Coul never
went through more in his bom days than I did,
though he was a great jom/ *, and I only a man.

' I tLj^i u(*t roAk 1 1,1 J 1 a juik- frwu iIh' hi>iiMS
it laMM^^iLs youi kiymmr tnuitt huvt* pifr*
dark all q£ a Muddeii^ for

oogle

186 NED SHEEHY*S EXCUSE.

all the worlds as if the sun had tumbled down
plump out of the fine clear blue sky. It was not
so late^ being only four o'clock at the most^ but it
was as black as your honour's hat. Well, I didn't
care much, seeing I knew the road as well as I
knew the way to my mouth, whether I saw it or
not, and I put the mare into a smart canter ; but
just as I turned down by the comer of Terence
Leahy's field — sure your honour ought to know the
place well — just at the very spot the fox was killed
when' your honour came in first out of a whole
-|ield of a hundred and fifty gentlemen, and may
be more, all of them brave riders."

(Mr. Gumbleton smiled.)

" Just then, there, I heard the low cry of the
good people wafting upon the wind. How early
you are at your work, my little fellows, says I to
m3r8elf ; and, dark as it was, having no wish for
such company, I thought it best to get out of their
way ; so I turned the horse a little up to the left,
thinking to get down by the boreen, that is that
way, and so round to Falvey's, but there I heard
the voice plainer and plainer close behind, and I
could hear these words :

'Ned! Ned!
By my cap so red !
You *re as good, Ned,
As a man that is dead.'

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

XED SH££HY^S £XCUS£, 1S7

A dean pair of spurs is all that 's for it now, said
I ; so off I set as Haid as I ooold lick, and in my
hurry knew no more where I waa& going than I do
the road to the hill of Tara. Away I gaDop^
on for some time^ until I came to the noise of a
stream, roaring away by itself in the darimfw.
What river is this? said I to mysdf — ^for there
was nobody else to ask — I tbought, says I, I knew
every inch of ground, and of water tooi, within
twenty miles, and never the river surely is there
in this direction. So I stopped to look abcmt;
but I might have spared myself that trouble, for
I could not see as much as my hand. I didn't
know what to do ; but I thought in myself, it 's
a queer river, surely, if somebody does not Hve
near it; and I shouted out, as loud as I could.
Murder! murder I — fire! — robbery! — any thii^
that would be natural in such a place — ^but not a
sound did I hear except my own voice ecboed back '
to me, like a hundred packs of hounds in full cry,
above and below, right and lef^. This didn't do
at all ; so I dismounted, and guided myself along
the stream, directed by the noise of the water, as
cautious as if I was treading upon eggs, holding
poor Modderaroo by the bridle, who shook, the
poor brute, all over in a tremble, like my old
grandmother, rest her soul, anyhow ! in the ague.
Well, sir, the heart was sinking in me, and I was

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

188 NED SHEEHT^S EXCUSE.

giving myself up, when, as good luck would have
it, I saw a light. *' Maybe/ said I, ^ my good fel-
low, you are only a jacky lanthom, and want to
bog me and Modderaroo.'- But I looked at the
light hard, and I thought it was too study (steady)
for a jacky lanthom. ^ I '11 try you,' says I — ' so
here goes ;' and walking as quidk as a thief, I came
towards it, being very near plumping into the riyer
once or twice, and being stuck up .to my middle,
as yoiu: honour may perceive cleanly the marks of,
two or three times in the slob*. At last I made
the light out, and it coming from a bit of a house
by the road side ; so I went to the door, and gave
three kicks at it, as strong as I could.

^' ^ Open the door for Ned Sheehy,' said a voice
inside. Now, besides that I could not, for the life
pf me, make out how any one inside should know
me before I spoke a word at all, I did not like the
sound of that voice, 'twas so hoarse and so hollow,
just like a dead man's ! — so I said nothing imme-
diately. The same voice spoke again, and said,
' Why don't you open the door to Ned Shediy ?'
« ^ How pat my name is to you,' said I, without
speaking out, ^ on tip of your tongue, like butter;'
and I was between two minds about staying or
going, when what should the door do but open,

• Or slaib; mire on the sea strand or river's bank. —
O'BaiEN.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

NED shebuy's excuse. 189

and out came a man holding a candle in his band»
and he had upon him a face afi white as a sheet.

'' ' Why, then, Ned Sheehy/ says he, ' how
grand you 're grown, that you won't come in and
sec a friend, as you 're passing by.'

'' ' Pray, sir,' says I, looking at him-*though
that face of his was enough to dumbfounder any
honest man like myself—' Pray, sir,' says I, ' may
I make so bold as to ask if you are not Jack Myers
that was drowned seven years ago, next Martin-
mass, in the ford of Ah-na^fourish ?'

'' ' Suppose I was,' says he ; ' has not a man
a right to be drowned in the ford facing his own
cabin-door any day of the week that he likes, from
Sunday morning to Saturday night?'

'' ' I 'm not denying that same, Mr. Myers, sir,'
says I, ' if 'tis yourself is to the fore speaking
to me.'

'' ' Well,' says he, ' no more words about that
matter now ; sure you and 1, Ned, were friends
of old ; come in, and take a glass ; and here 's a
good fire before you, and nobody shall hurt or
harm you, and I to the fore, and myself able U^
do it.'

** Now, your honour, though 'twas much to
drink with a man that was drowned seven years
before, in the ford of Ah-na-fburish, facing his
own door, yet the glass was hard to be withstood

t

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

190 NED sheehy's excuse.

— to say nothing of the fire that was blazing within
— for the night was mortal cold. So tying Mod-
deraroo to the hasp of the door — if I don't love
the creature as I love my own life — I went in
with Jack Myers.

^^ Civil enough he was — I 'U never say other-
wise to my dying hour — for he handed me a stool
by the fire^ and bid me sit down and make myself
comfortable. But his face^ as I said before/ was
as white as the snow on the hills^ and his two
eyes fell dead on me, like the eyes of a cdd with-
out any life in them. Just as I was going to put
the glass to my lips, a voice— -'twas the same that
I heard bidding the door be opened — spoke out of
a cupboard that was convenient to the left hand
side of the chimney, and said, ' Have you any
news for me, Ned Sheehy?'

ff < The never a word, sir,* says I, making answer
before I tasted the whiskey, all out of civility ; and
to speak the truth, never the least could I re-
member at that moment of what had happened to
me, or how I got there ; for I was quite bothered
with the fright.

" ^ Have you no news,' says the voice, ^ Ned,
to tell me, frdm Mountbally Gumbletonmore ; or
from the Mill ; or about Moll Trantum that was
married last week to Bryan Oge, and you at the
wedding ?'

Digitized by LjOOQ rC

" ' No, sir/ says I, ' never the word.'

" ' What brought you in here, Ned, then ?'
says the voice. I could say nothing ; for what-
ever other people might do, I never could frame
un excuse ; and I wai loth to say it wai on ac-
count of the glasi and the fire, for that would be
to ipeak the truth.

« ' Turn the scoundrel out,' says the voice ;
and at the sound of it, who would I see but Jack
Myers making over to me with a lump of a stick
in his hand, and it clenched on the stick so wicked.
For certain, I did not stop to feel the weight of
the blow ; so, dropping the glass, and it full of
the stuff too, I bolted out of the door, and never
rested from running away, for as good I believe
as twenty miles, till I found myself in a big
wood.

" ' The Lord preserve me I what will become
of me, now !' says 1. ' Oh, Ned Sheehy !' says
I, speaking to myself, ' my man, you 're in a
pretty hobble; and to leave poor Modderoroo
after you !' But the words were not well out of

iinrpiit [i ,, uih u Ji isijrd tut' Umpuiiit - i-

wurld, cftemgh to brcivk tmy ' . ^n

Wurts H'itli the gr tef t*i]tJrt4y ;

'^* 1 toiM pUiniy nn* four

riti) u gn*ut blttcl t-ulEti

Google

192 NED sheehy's excuse.

on their shoulders. * I 'd better get up in a tree,'
says I, ^for they say 'tis not lucky to meet a
corpse : I 'm in the way of misfortune to-night if
ever man was.'

*^ I could not help wondering how a berrin *
should come there in the lone wood at that time
of night, seeing it could not be far from the dead
hour. But it was little good for me thinking, for
they soon came under the very tree I was roosting
in, and down they put the coffin, and began to
make a fine tire under me. I'll be smothered
alive now, thinks I, and that will be the end of
me ; but I was afraid to stir for the life, or to
speak out to bid them just make their fire under
some other tree, if it would be all the same thing
to them. Presently they opened the coffin, and out
they dragged as fine looking a man as you 'd meet
with in a day's walk.

*' ^ Where 's the spit ?' says one.

" ' Here 'tis,' says another, handing it over ;
and for certain they spitted him, and began to
turn him before the fire.

** If they are not going to eat him, thinks I,
like the Hannibals father Quinlan told us about
in his sarmint last Sunday.

• Funenl.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

d by Google

•J - V.

Digitized by LjOOQIC

MID sheehy's excuse. 198

<« « Who'll turn the spift while we go fotthe
other ingredients ?' says one of them that farouf^
the coffin, ttid' a hig uglj^looking lilackgoard he
was.

^'' Who'd turn the apit hut Ned Sheehy?'
says another.

'^ Bum you ! thinks I^ how should ^ou kncvw
that I was here so handy to you up in the tree ?

" ^ Come down, Ned Sheehy, and turn the
spit,' says he.

" ' I 'm not here at all, sir,' sajs I, putting my
hand over my face, that he may not see me.

" ^ That won't do Tfor you, my man,' says he ;
^ you 'd better come down, or maybe I 'd make
you.'

'' ' I 'm coming, Ac/ says I^ for 'tis always right
to make a yirtue of necessity. So down I came,
and there they left me turning the spit in the
middle of the wide wood.

" ' Don't scorch me, Ned Sheehy, you vaga-
bond,' says the man on the spit.

^^ ' And . my lewd, sir, and ar'n't you dead, sir,'
says I, ' and your honour taken out of the coffin
andaU?'

" ' I ar'n't,' says he.

^' ^ But surely you are, sir,' says I, ' for 'tis to
no use now for me denying that I saw your ho-
nour, and I \ip in the tree.'

PART II. o

^. ' Digitized by LjOOQ IC

194 K£D SHBEHT^S EXCUSE.

^^ ' I aren't/ saja he 9gaizi> faking quite abort
and sDappish,

'^ So I said no mor^ until presently he called
out to me to turn him easy^ or that may be 'twould
be the worse turn for myself.

'^ * Will that do, sir ?' says I, turning him as
easy as I could.

" ^ That 's too easy/ says he ; so I turned him
faster.

'^ ' That 's too fast/ says he ; so finding that
turn him which way I would, I could not please
him, I got into a bit of a fret at last, and desired
him to turn himself, for a grumbling spalpeen as
he was, if he liked it better.

'^ Away I ran, and away he came hopping, spit
and all after me, and he but half roasted. ^ Mur-
der !' says I, shouting out ; ^ I 'm done for at long
last — now or never !' — ^when all of a sudden, and
'twas really wonderful, not knowing where I was
rightly, I found myself at the door of the very
little cabin by the roadside that I had bolted out
of from Jack Myers ; and there was Modderaroo
standing hard by.

" * Open the door for Ned Sheehy,' says the
voice, for 'twas shut against me, and the door
flew open in an instant. In I ran, without Stop
or stay, thinking it better to be beat by Jack
Myers, he being an old friend of mine, than to

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

KXD SHBIRT^S BXCVSB* 195

be fpitted like a MlcTiaelmM goofe by a man tbat
I knew nothing about> either of him or his family,
one or the other*

** * HaTe you any news for me ?' aayf the Toioe^
putting just the same question to me that it did
before.

** ' Yes, sir/ says I, ' and plenty/ So I men-
tioned all that had happened to me in the big
wood, and how I got up in the tree, and how I
was made come down again, and put to turning
the spit, roasting the gentleman, and how I could
not please him, turn him fast or easy, although I
tried my best, and how he ran after me al last,
spit and all.

^' * If you had told me this before, you would
not hare been turned out in the cold,' said the
voice.

^' ' And how could I tell it to you, sir,' says
I, ^ before it happened V

** f No matitT/ nays lie, * yon may ^ew^ now
till mumin^ im tkiU boiwtl© of bay In tiji? comidr
th^re, aiui isnly J nm jmir fHi'Q4!» yuti W h^imt
hma kill mJ^s^olj^^^^fmn I hft bui 1 wis
drpwnitidtt '

198 NED SHEEBy'S excuse,

f' When the old man, who was turning the spit^
saw Joan^ he welcomed her, and expressed his joy at
seeing his gossip's daughter^ Joan Coleman of Kin-
sale. Joan was much frightened; but he welcomed
her so kindly^ and told her to sit down to the fire in
so friendly a manner^ that she was somewhat assured,
and complied with the invitation. He then handed
her the spit to tum^ and gave her the strictest charge
not to allow a brown or a burned spot on the old man
who was roasting until be came' back ; and with these
directions left her.

" It happened to be rather a windy night, and Joan
had not turned the spit long before a spark flew into
the beard of the roasting old man, and the wind blow-
ing that way it was speedily on fire. Joan, when she
saw what had happened, was much troubled, and ran
away as fast as possible. When the old fellow felt
his beard on fire, he called out to Joan, in a great pas-
sion, to come back, and not to allow him to be burned
up to a cinder. Joan only ran the faster ; and he,
without ever getting off the spit, raced after her, with
his beard all in flames, to know why, after die orders
she had received, he was treated in that manner. Joan
rushed into a house, which happened to be the very
same that she had been turned out of for want of a
story to tell. Wh^i she went in, Joan Coleman was
welcomed by the same voice which had directed her
to be turned out. She was desired to come to the Gre,
and pitied much, and a bed was ordered to be made
for her. After she had lain down for some time, th«

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

HT^I SXCCftl, 199

\ now a story to tell ? Joan

wing * a fright in her hearty'

to her tinoe the left^ and

d her adventare. * Very

u had told the same story

re, you would hare had

d your good night's rest

va, that I was obliged to

^ have something to tell

!r gives a bed without

Vhen Joan awoke next

^e found herself lying

green moss^ with her

less the same as the

1 the Quarterly Re*

nationBl analogies.

Hood of England^

Todeken, so called

kh he wore.

Tses, is said to be

reader this may

idarstood in the

ttio Townsend,

rk, gives so re-

bat the length

I

Newmarket)
Unary power
ugandeub«

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

800 mB sHEX&r's xaGcvss*

dttioig the refraotovy dispositkm of honss. Wbftt I
am aboat to xdate will upgeu alnott inevedible, and
is oertainly very bard to be aoeomited for ; but tibei<o
IB not the least doubt of its truib. Many of the moat
respectable inhabitants haye been witnesses of bis per^
formanoes^ some of which came within my own know*

^^ He was an awkward, ^orant rustic of the lowest
class, of the name of Sullivan, but better known by
the appellation of the Whispereiwi-his occupation^
horse-breaking. The nickname he acquired from a
vulgar notion of his being able to communicate to the
animal what he wished by means of a whisper, and
the singularity of his method seemed in some d^ree
to justify the attribute. In his own neighbourhood,
the notoriety of the fact made it appear less remark-
able, but J doubt if any instance of similar subjugating
talent is to be found on record. As far as the sphere
of his dontrol extended, the boast of veni; Mi, met, was
more justly claimed by Sullivan tiian by Cesar him-
self. How his art was acquired, or in what it con-
slated, is likely to remain for ever unknown, as he baa
lately" (about 1810) ^' left the world without divulging
it. His son, who follows the same trade, possesses
but a small portion of the art, having either never
learned the true secret, or being incapable of putting
it in practice. The wonder of his skill conaisted in
.the oderity of the operation, which was perfomed in
privacy, and without any apparent means of coercion;
Every description of horse, or even mule, whetticv

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

«xo ssEteft Air's sxcirss. 201

jl^iefiotnly broke or laduuicUed^ whttef er their peea«
liar vkes m ill liabits mi^t hsve been, sabmHtad
ivithmit diow <»f rarfstftnoe to tbe magLcal infiaenoe of
hk arty and in the abort apaee of baif an hour be-
eatte gentle and tractable. The t&teX, thoagfa inston*
taneondy produced, was genenlly dnraUe. Thong^
moro aubmiasiTe to him than to others, they seemed
to have acquired a docility unknown before. When
sent for to %arae a vicious beast, for which he was
paid more or less, according to distance, generally
two or three guineas, he directed the stable in whicb
heand the object of the experiment were placed to be
shut, with orders not to open the door until a ngnal
giteo. After a tete-a-tete of about half an hour,
daring which little or no bustle was heard, the signal
waa made, uid upon opening the door the horse ap«
peared lying down, and the man by his side, playing
familiarly with him, like a child with a puppy-dog.
From that time he was found perfectly willing to
submit to any discipline, however repugnant to hia
nature before.

" I once," continues Mr. Townsend, •* saw hia
skill tried on a horse which could never before be
brought to stand for a smith to shoe him. The day
after Sullivan's half-hour lecture I went, not without
some incredulity, to the smith's shop, with many other
curious spectators, where we were eye-witnesses of the
complete success of his art. This, too, had been a
troop horse, and it was supposed, not without reason,
that, after regimental discipline had failed, no other

Digitized by LjOOQIC

S02 NSB sheert's xzcitse.

would be found availing. I obserr ed that the aami^
appeared terrified whenever SoUivan either spoke or
looked at him; how that extraordinary ascendancy
could have been obtained it is difficult to conjecture.
In common cases this mysterious preparation was
unnecessary. He seemed to ^KMssess.an instinctive
power of inspiring awe, the result/ perhaps, of natural
intrepidity, in which I believe a great part of hi^
art consisted, though the circumstance of the t^te-k«
tete shows that, upon particular occasions, something
more must have been added to it. A faculty like this
would, in other hands, have made a fortune, and I
understand that great ofiers have been made to him
for the exercise of his art abroad. But hunting was
bis passion. He lived at home in the style most
agreeable to his disposition, and nothing could induce
him to quit Duhallow and the fox-hounds."

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

e$ in Ireland

ranslation of

Oanihip still

dependant!

dr-brothersj

er of rights

ind musici

ig beggar,

each oon«

tale, to-

bed, had

'yrahen«

I, when,

•d forth

vening

deeper

(the

1

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

204 THE LUCKY fiUEST.

less silence. A pause followed the last relation,
and all eyes rested on the narrator, an old nurse
who occupied the post of honour, that next the
fireside. She was seated in that peculiar position
which the Irish name *^ Currigguib," a position
generally assumed by a veteran and determined
story-teller. Her haunches resting upon the
ground, and her feet bundled under the body;
her anns folded across and supported by her knees,
and the outstretched chin of her hooded head
praHBng on the upper arm; which compact ar^
rangement nearly reduced the whole figure into
a perfect triangle.

Unmoved by the general gaze, Bridget Doyle
made no change of attitude, while she gravely
asserted the truth of the marvellous tale con-
ceniing the Dead Man's Hollow; her strongly
marked countenance at the time receiving what
painters term a fine chiaro-scuro effect from the
fire-light.

** I have told you," she said, " what happened
to my own people, the Butlers and the Doyles, in
ibe old times ; but here is little Ellen Connell
from the county Cork, who can speak to what
happened under her own father and mother^s roof
--^he Lord be good to them !"

Bllen WBs a yotmg and blooming giii of about
sixteen, who was em^doyed in the dairy at Bally^

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THB USQEJ 017SST. MM

xshen. Sbe was ike pictoie of beftltb iod imlie
beau^; aiidattbi0liiiit&oinBttiiePojle>»de«p
bturfi mantled oTcy her eoi mtem m re ; yet alt ho u gh
" unaecuatomed to poUk wpmkmg," die> wi^out
Attther hesitatuni or eseuae^ proceeded as foUofva :
. "It was one May. eve, ahoat thiftern yean ago^
and that is^ as every body knowa, the airiest day
in all the twdve months. It is the day above all
other/' said Ellen, with her large dark eyes cait
down on the ground, and drawing a deep ai^
" when the young boys and the young giils ga
looking after the Drmiketn, toleam firom it ri^tly
the name of their sweethearta.

'^My father, and my mother, and my two
brothers, with two or three ef the nei^iboiira,
were sitting round the turf fire, aad were talking
c^ one thing or another. My mother was hnsboing
my little sister, striving to quieten her, for ahe
was cutting her teeth at the time, and waa nd^tfy
uneasy through the means of then. The day,
whidi waa threaleniBg all akm^^ now ^t it was
ooming on to duak, began to nisb and the rain
increased and £^ &ster and Carter, aa if it was
pouring thnaif^ a sieve out of thewide heacvena;
and whan the rain stopped finr ft bit there waa a
.v?iiid which k^ up such a whistling and rai^et,
Aat you would have fhou^ the sky and the

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

S06 THE LUCXT GUSsr.

earth were coming together. It blew and it blew
aa if it had a mind to blow the roof off the cabin^
and that would not have been very hard for it to
do^ as the thatch was quite loose in two or three
places. Then the rain began again> and you could
hear it spitting and hissing in the iire^ as it came
down through the big chimbley.

" ^ Gk)d bless us/ says my mother^ ^ but 'tis a
dreadful night to be at sea/ says she^ ^ and God
be pn^sed that we have a roof^ bad as it is^ to
shelter us/

^' I don% to be sure^ recollect all this^ mistress
Doyle^ but only as my brothers told it to me^ and
other people^ and often have I heard it; for I
was so little then^ that they say I could just go
under the table without tipping my head. Any-
way^ it was in the very height of the pelting and
whistling that we heard something speak outside
the door. My father and all of us listened^ but
there was no more noise at that time. We waited
a little longer^ and then we plainly heard a sound
like an old man's voice, asking to be let in, but
mighty feebly and weak. Tim bounced up, with«
out a word, to ask us whether we 'd like to let
the old man, or whoever he was, in — ^having al-
ways a heart as soft as a mealy potatoe before the
voice of sorrow. When Tim pulled back the bolt

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

TBB LUCKY GUEST* 207

that did the door^ in marched a little bit of a shri-
velled^ weather-beaten creature^ about two feet
and a half high.

« We were all watching to see who'd come in,
for there was a wall between us and the door;
but when the sound of the undoing of the bolt
stopped, we. heard Tim give a sort of a screech,
and instantly he bolted in to us. He had hardly
time to say a word, or we either, when the little
gentleman shuffled in after him, without a God
save all here, or by your leave, or any other sort
of thing that any decent body might say. We
all, of one accord, scrambled over to the furthest
end of the room, where we were, old and young,
every one trying who 'd get nearest the wall, and
farthest from him. All the eyes of our body were
stuck upon him, but he didn't mind us no more
than that frying-pan there does now. He walked
over to the fire, and squatting himself down like a
frog, took the pipe that my father dropped from^
his mouth in the hurry, put it into his own, and
then began to smoke so hearty, that he soon filled
the room of it.

^' We had plenty of time to observe him, and
my brothers say that he wore a sugar-loaf hat
that was as red as blood : he had a face as yellow
as a kite's daw, and as long as to«day and to-mor*

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

SOS XH£ lAJCKY GUXST.

row put togetbeTj with a xaouth all screwed and
puckered up like a wadier-woman's hand, litde
blue eyes^ and rather a highish nose ; hk hair was
quite grey and lengthy^ appearing under his hat,
and flowing over the cape of a long scarlet coat
which almost trailed^ the ground behind him, and
the ends of which he took up and planked on his
knees to dry, as he sat facing the fire. He had
smart corduroy l»:eecheSy and woollen stockings
drawn up over the knees, so as to hide the knee-
buckles, if he had the pride to have them ; but,
at any rate, if he hadn't them in his knees he had
them in his shoesj out before his spindle legs.
When we came to ourselves a little we thought
to escape from the room, but no one would go first,
nor no one would stay last ; so we huddled our-
selves together and made a dart out of the room.
My little gentleman never minded my thing of
the scrambling, nor hardly stirred himself, sitting
quite at his ease before the fire. The neighbours,
the very instant minute they got to the door,
althoiigh it still continued pelting rain, cut gutter
as if Oliver Cromwell himself was at their heels ;
and no blame to them for that, anyhow. It was
my father^ ami my moiiierj anil my brothers, arid
myself, a little hop-of-my-thumb midgt* ai I was
then, that were Mi t«> ttin wlmt would coma uui

d by Google

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE LUCKY guest; 209

of. this , strange visit ; so we ; all went - quietly to
the labbig *,scBXcdj daring to. throw anVeye at
bim as we. passed the door, v Never the wink' of
sleep could they sleep that live-long nighty though^
to be sure, I slept like a top, not knowing better^
while they were talking and thinking of the' little
man. * *' • •"■•' '. .« •'- '"' ^"- "'* ■ '■' '' ' '
" When they got up in the morning every thing
was as qiiiet and as tidy about the place as if ho^
thing had happened, for all that the chiEurs and
stools were tumbled here/ there, and everywhere,
when we saw. the lad enter. Now, indeed, I forget
whether he came next night or not,' but, anyway,
that was the .first time we ever laid eye upon him.'
This I know for certain, that,- about a month after
that, he came regularly every night, and used to
give us a signal to be on the'move, for 'twas plain ^
he did not like to be observed. - This sign was
always made about eleven o'clock; and then, if
we'd look towards the do«r, there was a little
hairy arm thrust in through the key-hole,' which
would not have been big enough, only there was
a fresh hole made near the first one, and the bit
of stick between them had been broken away, and
so 'twas just fitting for the little arm.

* Lahhig — bed, from Leaba. — Vide O'Brien and
O'Reilly. .

PART II. p

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

2W txx UTGCT Gicmxt,

to the
: «t«i9S om of the fipe lie nnde
I o^ ad wanuBg hJBKif tiU dbj dawned
i fiv^ sad then ^oii^ m one Gtioi^ knows
hot tbere was not Ae )e«ilnw^ of him
to he finnd in the inning; and *tis as tziie,
amaa Dd^% and honest peo^ple^ as joa aie all
bene otting hcfine aae and bf the side of me, diat
fSke fimOy firaitmoed thnring^ and v j fiither and
tamhiii PM^ in the worid while erer he came
to us. When we uhsci ^ e d thi^ we uaed always
look fin the rerj aaoment to aee when the arm
woold come, and dien we'd inslantlT 1^ off with
ooKselTes to oar lest. Bat heftae we found the
lock, we ased sometiBses sit still and not mind the
aim, espedalty when a ne^ghhoor would he with
mj &ther« or that two or thsee or four of them
woold have a drop among them, and then they
did not caie for all Ae arms, haiiy or not, that
ever weve seen. No on^ howoTer, daied to apeak
to it or of it insdentfy, except, indeed, one night
that Davy Kennane — but he was drank — ^walked
over and hitit |t r^ on the back of the wrist : the
band was snatrhfd off likeli^tning; but every one
knows that Davy did not live a month after this
happened, thoa§^ he was only about ten days sick.
The like of such tricks are ticklish things to da

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE LUCKT GUEST. 911

^f'As sure as the led man would pitf in liu nm
for a sign thnm^ the hole in the door^ and Aaft
we did not ge and c^pen k to hiai, aa aaie aone
mishsqp hefel the oatde : the 430ws ^
or overlGdced> or somediii^ or i
with theai. One m^t mj^lnodKr Jhat i
tp go at the signal^ and the next dsnr, aa he '
cutting turf in Oro^na-drimina hog,
wle and a half of thie hoDse, a stone i
at hini> which hcoke itariy, wiA the 1
two halves. Now> if that had
bimi he*d he' at this hoar aa dead aa sr ;
^:«at-grandfather. It ca
the spade he had in his
in two pieces. He took \
togeth^^ and ihej nude n ]
way or ihe other he lost it i
the one which was shot as fSke i
before the little mast en
aiimelsawdiataoaB; 'lihjMSdie)
aoB of hearts on the caadi^ naif It is 4f a i
^our^ and pdidied wf lakt dbe fBAsr fliac m aa
the grand padoor wftdbm. WIks Ass dfai wm
kill the cow on ike spat, Ae n»dW Wfi imt 'M
yon took and pot Ae d fs sa ne SMier ivraififln^
and milked her npsm ft an die 1
then made her dnak Ae nrii^ i
and she would dniwc widi jwii i

ri

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

812. THE LUCKY GUEST- '

, " But, as , I .'said, we .were getting . on ' Well
enough as long as we minded the door and watched
for. the hairy arm, which we did sharp enough
when we found it was' hringing luck to us, and
we were now as glad to see the little red gentle^
man, and as ready tc^open thie door to him,' as' we
used to dread his coming at first and be frightened
of him: . But at long last we throve so well that
the landlord-^-God forgive him— took notice' of
us, and envied us, and asked my father how he'
came. by the penny he had,' and wanted him' to
take more ground at a rack-rent that was more
than any Christian ought to pay to another^ seeing,
there was no making it. When my father — ^and
small blame to him for that — refused to lease the
ground, he turned us off the bit of land we had,
and out of the house and all,' and left us in a wide
and wicked world, where my father/ for he was a
soft innocent man, was not up to the roguery and
the trickery that was' practised upon him. He
was taken this way by one and that way by an-"
other, and he treating them that were working
his downfall. And he used to take bite and sup
with them, and they with him, free enough bS
long as the money lasted; but when that was
gone, and he had not as much ground, that he
could call his own; as would sod a larjc^ they soon
jshabbed him off. The landlord died not long

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE LUCKY GUEST. 218

after ; and he now knows whether he acted right
or wrong in taking the house from over our heads.

'' It is a had thing for the heart to he cast
down^ so we took another cahin, and looked out
with great desire for the Fir darrig to come to us.
But ten o'clock came, and no arm« although we
cut a hole in the door Just the moral (model) of
the other. Eleven o'clock! — twelve o'clock!-*
no, not a sign of him : and every night we watched^
but all would not do. We then travelled to the
other house, and we rooted up the hearth, for the
landlord asked so great a rent for it from the poor
people that no one could take it ; and we carried
away the very door off the hinges, and we brought
every thing with us that we thought the little
man was in any respect partial to, but he did not
come, and we never saw him again.

'' My father and my mother, and my young
sister, are since dead, and my two brothers, who
oould tell all about this better than myself, are
both of them gone out with Ingram in his last
voyage to the Cape of Oood Hope, leaving me
behind without kith or kin."

Here young Ellen's voioe became choked with
sorrow, and bunting into tears, she hid her face
in her apron.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

214 THE LUCKY GUEST.

This tak is'preservBd verbatim as taken down by
Mr. M'Clise, to whose dever pencil the present volume
is also indebted for the idea of two or three of the
sketches which illustrate it.

The Fir darrig here has many traits of resemblance
with the Scotch Brownie^ the German Kobold^ and
the Hob-goblin of England (Milton's ''Lubber fiend.'^)
They all love cleanliness and regularity^ arebatbing^rs
of good4uck^ and in general^ for some exceptions oc-
^tA, are like cats^ attached to the houte rafher thttfi
to the fkttiily.

€rogh»4ia-'drimina bog lies at the foot of CmHi*
Thienia, neair Fermoy^ a UU whidi is the iceiie of a
subsequent sUvy.

Caugh^na-^Loobas dance with the black firiar at
Rahill, as well as the legend of the Dead Man's Hol-
low^ are traditions well known in the county of Tip-
perary. The present worthy possessor of Rahill (Mr.
FenneU^ a Quaker gentleman) can bear witness to the
popttkr belief in Cough-tia-Looba's existence^ and
ber supposed abode in his orchurd^ where she is coti-
•tantly heard Idngi&g

4

Na cluih U ghahMtoo
Na inkk gevdekeioo
Cough a najjoebu/'

The fair dame's song is given as it is pronounced^ and
has been translated to the writer by a singular cha-

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

1

^3B£ x,rccT crxsT.

SX:

Fdac," m faDmmmz

Of!

1W«nflj^«

Digitized by LjOOQ IC ^

21© THE LyCKY GUEST.

these snails fall with, and are born of the dew, and
are never seen but when the dew is on the .ground.
A kind correspondent (Mr. Richard Dowden Richard)
suggests, as a probable derivation, Druadh, a magician,
and hence DrucLdheen, the little magicianl

The flint arrow-heads of the primitive inhabitants,
and the axes termed by antiquaries stone celts, are
frequently found in turning up the ground in Ireland,
as well as Scotland, and other countries. By the peai>
santry they are termed elf-stones, and believed to have
been maliciously .shot at' cattle by '^ the wandering
people." • .' . .: * - .

• Thus Collins, in his beautiful .ode on the supersti-
tions of the Highlands ' ■ )

" There every herd by sad experience knows

How wing'd with fate their elf-shot arrows fly ;
When the sick ewe her summer-food foregoes.
Or, stretch'd on earth,^ the heart-smit heifers
lie."

It may appear rather hazardous to employ the word
noways in the opening sentence of the tale, after the
declaration of Dr. Johnson, who, in his derivation of no-
wise, says *' this word is, by some ignorant barbarians,
written and pronounced noways '\ Few, however, now
rate the authority of Dr. Johnson very high upon any
subject, and in etymological ones it goes for nothing.
Sir Walter Scoitt very slily remarks, when speaking
of the greatest of the Jonsbns, old fien, that 'f he is hot
.the only one of the name that has bullied his con-
Digitized by LjOoqIc /

THE LUCKY GUEST. 217

temporaries into taking him at his own valuation;"
but the man who wrote the Alchymist was certainly
very far superior in every respect to the author of
Irene.

We cannot venture decidedly to maintain that no-
ways is the proper writing of the word, for we know
that our Saxon ancestors more frequently employed
yifc, wise, modus, than ye-^, way. Thus we meet
on nane pipan, in nowise; on o)jfie pifan, otherwise;
on seni^e^ PT^i^^ ^^ anywise; on %pa^ on «fieo pipaU)
in two or three wise. But we also meet Galle pse^a^
omnibus modis^ and ealne ye%^ always, semper. And
besides always we still use straightways, lengthways^
and other similar adverbs^ which would appear to in-
dicate the former use of several adverbs formed from
pe; in the regular Teutonic manner^ that is^ by a ge-
nitive termination. Nowise and iioways v&, in Ger-
man^ keineswegs. It is curious that the Saxon Gpt:
fona should have become eftsoons.

" Digitized by LjOOQ IC

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

TiziT iz::^

TEE^f

•^m^m^mmimim

"Brn'mt

Digitized by VjOOQ IC

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

TREASURE LL^^Zl^^

DREAMESG TJt --^JTTfc

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

222 DREAMING TIM JARYIS.

But, as I was saying, every body knew Tim
Jarvis to be a decent, honest, quiet, hard-working
man, who was thriving enough to be able to give
his daughter Nelly a fortune of ten pounds ,- and
Tim himself would have been snug enough be-
sides, but that he4oved thedrop sometimes. How-
ever, he was seldom backward on rent day. His
ground was never .distraint but twice, &nd both
times through a small bit of a mistake ; and his
landlord had never but (mce to say to him-r^'^ Tim
Jarvis, you 're all behind^ Tim, like the cow's
tail." Now it so happened that, being heavy in
himself, through the drink, Tim took to sleep-
ing, and the sleep set Tim dreanung, and h^^
dreapi^d all night, and night after night, about
orockfl iiiU of gold and other precious stones ; so
mudb. so, that Norah Jarvis his wife could get no
goqd of him l^ day, and have little opqifort with
him by nig^« The grey dawn of the morning
would see Tim digging away in ja bog-hole, maybe,
or rootiog under some old stone walls ^e a pig,
At last he dreamt that he found a mighty great
cxoek of gold and silver — and where, do you think?
Every step of the way upon London-bridge, itself!
Twice Tim dreamt it, and three times Tim dreamt
the same thing ; and at last he made up his mind
to transport himself, and go over to London^ in
Pat Mahoney's coaster*— and so he did !

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

DRBAMlKa TIM JARTI8. S2S

Well, he got therei tnd found the bridge with-
out much difficulty. Every day he walked up
and down looking for the crock of gold, but never
the find did he find it. One day, however^ a« he
waa looking over the bridge into the water, a man,
or something like a man, with great Uack whi8keri>
like a Hewian, and a Uack cloak that reached down
to the ground, tapa him on the shoulder, and says
h^— '' Tim Jarvis, do you see me?/'

** Surely I do, sir," said Tim ; wondering that
any body should know him in the strange place.

" Tim," says he, '' what is it brings you here
in foreign parts, so hx away from your own caUn
by the mine of grey copper at Balledehob?."

" Please your honour," says Tim, " I 'm come
to seek my fortune."

** You 're a fool for your pains, Tim, if that '%
all," remarked the stranger in the black cloak ;
** this is a Ug place to seek one's fortune in, to be
sure, but it 's not so easy to find fc."

Now, Tim, after debating a long time with
himself, and ooosidtring, in the first place, that it
might bo the stranger wha was to find the crock
of gold for him ; and in the next, that the stranger
might direct him where to find it, came to the
resolution of telling him all.

" There 's many a one like me comes here seek-
ing their fortunes," said Tim.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

224 DREAMING. TIM JARVISV

. u True/' said the stranger.. * * '

•. " But," continued \Tim; looking up, ". tlie body
and bones of tbe cause for myself leaving: the wo-
man; and Nelly/ and the boys^ and. travelling, so
far, is to look for a crock of gold that I 'm told is
lying somewhere hereabouts."
' " And* who told you thati Tim ?".
. " Why, then, sir, that 's whut I can't tell my-
self rightly — only I dreamt it."
; " Ho, ho ! is that all, Tim ?" said the stranger,
laughing ; '^ I had a. dream myself; and I dreamed
that I' found a crock of gold, in the Fort, field,; on
Jerry Driscoll's ground at Balledehob ; and by
the SMne token, the pit where it lay. was close to
a large furze bush, all full of yellow blcwssom."

Tim knew Jerry Driscoll's ground well; ahd,
moreover, he knew the fort 'field as well as he
knew his own potatoe.garden; he was certain,
tob, of the very furze biish at the north end of it
— so, swearing a bitter big oath, says he — • -^
;" By all the crosses in a yard of check, I always
thought there was money, in that same field I"
' The moment he rapped out the oath the stranger
disappeared, and Tim Jarvis, wondering at all that
had happened, to him, made the best of his way
back to Ireland. Norah, as may well be sup-
posed, had no very warm welcome for her runaW'ay
husband — the dreaming blackguard, as she called

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

DREAMING TIM JARYIS. 225

him — and so soon as she set eyes upon him^ all
the blood of her body in one minute was into her
knuckles to be at him ; but Tim^ after his long
Journey^ looked so cheerful and so happy-like^ that
she could not find it in her heart to give him the
first blow! He managed to pacify his wife by
two or three broad hints about a new doak and a
pair of shoes^ that^ to speak honestly^ were much
wanting to her to go to chapel in; and decent
clothes for Nelly to go to the patron with her
sweetheart^ and brogues for the boys^ and some
corduroy for himself. " It wasn't for nothing/'
says Tim, " I went to foreign parts all the ways;
and you '11 see what '11 come out of it — ^mind my
words."

A few days afterwards Tim sold his cabin and
his garden, and bought the fort field of Jerry
Driscoll, that had nothing in it, but was full of
thistles, and old stones, and blackberry bushes ;
and all the neighbours — as well they might-
thought he was cracked !

The first night that Tim could summon courage
to begin his work, he walked off to the field with
his spade upon his shoulder ; and away he dug all
night by the side of the furze bush, till he came
to a big stone. He struck his spade against it,
and he heard a hollow sound ; but as the morning
had begun to dawn, and the neighbours would be

FART II. Q

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

286 XABAMiNG TIM •JARVJS^

going out to thdjt work, Tim, not wiibiog t/o bare
tlie tUng talked about^ went home to the little
hovel, where Norah and the childjnen were.huddled
together under a heap of straw ; for. he had sold
eveiy thing he had in the world to purchase Dris-
coU's field, that was said to be '' the back-bone of
the world, picked by the devil."

It is in^ssible to describe the epithets and re-
proaches bestowed by the poor woman on her un-
lucky husband for bringing her into such a way.
Epithets and reproaches which Tim had but one
mode of answering, as thus : — " Norah, did you
see e'er a cow you 'd like ?"— or, " Norah, dear,
hasn't Pdl Deasy a feather-bed to sell?"— or,
" Norah, honey, wouldn't you like your silver
buckles as big as Mrs. Doyle's ?"

As soon as night came Tim stood beside the
furze bush spade in hand. The moment he jumped
down into the pit he heard a strange rumbling
noise under him, and so, putting his ear against
the great stone, he listened, and overheard a dis«
course that made the hair on his head stand up
like bulrushes, and every limb tremble.

" How shall we bother Tim ?" said one voice*

" Take him to the mountain, to be sure, and
make him a toothful for the old serpent ; 'tis long
since he has had a good meal," said another voice.

Tim shook like a potatoe-blossom in a storm.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

" rio," said a third vatoe ; " plunge him in the
bog, neck and heela."

Tim was a dead man, barring the breath^.

" Stop I" laid a fourth ; but Tim heard no more,
foir Tim was dead entirely. In about an hour,
However, the life came back into himi and he crept
home to Norah.

When the next night arrived the hopes of the
crock of gold got the better of his fears, and taking
oare to arm himself with a bottle of potheen, away
lie went to the fieUL Jumping into the pit, he
took a little sup from the bottle to keep his heart
**P — ^be then took a big one— and then, with de*
sperate wrench, he wrenched up the stone. All at
<"&ce> up rushed a blast of wind, wild and fierce, and
down fell Tim— down, down, and down he went
—until he thumped upon what seemed to be, for all
the world, like a floor of sharp pina» which made
mm beUour out in eiiment. Then he heura u
^ '** nnd a liurru, and mstiintly voktm bcyoml
tbvr vricil out —

" VVt-leonic, Tim Jarvia, dear I
JH<^«_' Iccjmr, down here I"

. •' hut f'lm il* mgegTM>

q2

288

DREAMING TIM JARVIS.

Ttumgh Tim'f teetb cliattered like magpies with
the fri^t^ be continued to make answer—^' I 'm
he-be-bar-ti-ly ob-ob-liged to-to yoa all, gen-gen-
tlemen, fo^for your civility to-to a poor stranger like
myself/' But tbougb be bad beard all tbe voices
about bim, be could see notbing, tbe place was so
dark and so lonesome in itself for want of the
ligbt. Tben something pulled Tim by tbe hair
(}( bis bead, and dragged him, be did not know
bow far, but he knew he was going faster than
tbe wind, for be heard it behind him, trying to
keep up with him, and it could not. On, on, on,
be went, till all at once, and suddenly, be was
stopped, and somebody came up to him, and said,
" Well, Tim Jarvis, and bow do you like your'
ride?"

'* Mighty well !
Tim ; " and 'twas a j

There waj n gretiU
then there was \i
mugger, nnd coshei
hit of II voice Rfiid,
SCO, TIni/'

.WoivL till

^our honour/' said
I rode, syrtly !*!—
fini's unswerj
a great
St a pret
vcw, and '

quo
1']

ingl
lI '11 dl

iinmc

§

he saw himielf in the middle of thouiartds of little
men and women^ not half lo high ai his broguei
that were pelting one another with golden guineas
and lily-white thirteens^i as if they were so muoh
dirt. The finest dressed and the biggest of them
all went up to Timi and says he, " Tim Janris,
because you are a decent, honest, quiet, civil, well-
spoken man," says he, " and know how to behave
yourself in strange company, we 've altered our
minds about you, and will find a neighbour of
yours that will do Just aTwell to give to the old
acrpent/'

" Oh, then, long life to you, sir I" said Tim,
" and there 's no doubt of that."

'* But what will you say, Tim," inquired the
little fellow, •' if we fill your pockets with these
yellow boys ? What will you say, Tim, and what
will you do with them ?"

•* Your iitnidul-'n honour, mid ymiv honour's

/' unswi^rril Tim. *' I *l\ not k- uble to mtf

i fur cMic month with I h unking you—

cniMigh to do with them. I 'd

J V . you ■€*, at ont'e of Nonih —

k\ wifr Ut nic, W(? 11 hjive i

L r ; und, mttylit% I *d have

IclHidi N ; fjr unmet iinci, if

rritli cunvncy.

p^^^^

230 DREAMING TIM JARVIB.

'twas with a friend/ or aoqtiaiiitance^ or gossip,
you know, fiiree glasses every day ; and I 'd build
a new caMn; and I 'd have a fresh egg every
imomings myself, for my breakfast ; and I 'd snap
my' fingers at the 's^re, and beat his hounds, if
they 'd come coursing throu^ my fields ; and I 'd
hav« a new plough ; and Norah, your honour,
dioiild have a new doak, and the boys should have
^oes and stockings as well as^lddy Leary's brats
-^that's my sister what was— and Nelly should
^marry Bill Long of Affadown ; and, your honour,
I 'd have some corduroy for myself to make breeches,
and a oow, and a beautiM coat with shining but-
tons, and a horse to ride, or maybe twoi ' I 'd have
every thing," said Tim, **Jin life, good or bad, that
is to be got for love or money — ^huira- whoop J-*-
and that 's what I'd do."

" Take care, Tim," said the little fellow, " your
money would not go faster than it came, with
your hurra-whoojp."

But TkxL heeded not this speech : heaps of gold
were around him, and he filled and filled away as
hard as he coidd, his coat and his waistcoat and
his breeches pockets ; and he thought himself very
dever, moreover, because he stu€^ some of the
guineas into his brogues. When the little people
perceived this, they cried out — " Go home, Tim
JarvisE^^go home, and think yourself a lucky matu'*

.< Digitized by CjOOQIC

BBCAjoj^e in jjunrts^

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

232 DREAMING TIM JARYIS.

heart-broken^ followed his wife home : and^ strange
to say^ from that night he left off drinking^ and
•dreaming, and delving in Ix^-holes^ and rooting
in old caves. He took again to his hard working
habits^ and was soon able to buy back his little
cabin and former potato-garden^ and to get all the
enjoyment he anticipated from the fairy gold.

Give Tim one or, at most, two glasses of whisl%r
punch (and neither friend, acquaintance, or gQ$si||
can make him take more), . and he will relate the
stojy to you much better than you have it here.
Indeed it is worth going to Balledehob to hear
;him tell it. ;He always pledges himself to the
truth of every word with his fore-fingers crossed ;
and when he comes to speak of the loss of his
guineas, he never fails to console himself by adding
— " If they staid with me. I wouldn't have luck
with them, sir ; and father O'Shea told me- 'twas
as well f(w. me they were changed, for if they
hadn't, they'd have burned holes in my pocket,
and gQt out that way."

I shaU never forget his solemn countenance^
and the de^ tones of his warning voice, when he
.concluded his tale, by telling me, that the next
day after his ride with the fairies, Mick Bowling
was missing, and he believed him to be give4 to
.the serpent in his place, as he had .never been

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

SOLMJkMlVC TIM JAMnn. ^^^

tweenaU good men and ^ann/wMtiieeoiUst^^*^
icifTimJBrvk'flaanalire^tf lieiluxMir ^^

iwwL

1b damiDs Ikaoathe fiapp ^^1 i %"t^y ^^^
tale, widdiiBalw caneBt, «nti Itttk
»1m* ig— *^ i ff fhm irlair rl : — ^"
if lievoa te Sqi^OHtaqg aad «diMC «(. t^
he ifaonLd leoiaK sidi. Btrt
k lad ifMt aw »
ad Jaaaidfe ac 1m tftm^,. i, ua^ j
cnae i^ id imL, waMii iin[, ma: jte^ va^ Mat^; :
eroy db^^ and aMrtr aoa. tqitf: jk: anh jmpKk^.

go to Ifae laid^ ^JtapcMMB^ jri^aMPbiJ maii r«fc>

iliiiMii " TTira— »(: m: ibaif ^"I^^^m^ *^'

fiiliaf awiry; lattl^iaeia^jagH. tuiiii.^jir: «iN«Mi
axe tediT rX^VMMt aua: iKttiMMc^

^ The SHD wtm Jmmiiimtty aMu imk fi«i«c' i^
tzcc^ and liKK ii£ ^aui ^^Bs: MMMH.' iii^ ««ia»^ -.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

284 DBSAMI^IG- tiM JAEi^IB.

from my hnihet. The ttume ttory is told of sefveral
olher {daces. At Lubeck it was a baker^s boy who
dreamed he i^uld find a treasure on the bridge:
On the bridge he met a b^gar^ who said he had
dreamed there was one under a lime-tree in the
church-yard of MoUen^ but that he would not take
the trouble of going there. The baker's boy went and
got the treasure?'

Precisely the same legend is recorded in the Danske
Folkesiign (vol. ii. p. 84)/of a man at a pl»ce c^ed
Als, who dreamed he should find a treasure in the
streets of Flensborg^ and was directed back to Tanskt
near Als. But perhaps there is no country in whidi
this story is not current.

Should any reader be fortunate oiougfa to dream t>f
buried noney^ it may be of some advantage' to know
the proper ''art and order" to be used in digging for it.
" There must be made up<9i a hazel wand three
crosses^ and certain words^ both blasphemous and im-
pious^ must be said over it ; and hereunto must be
added certain characters and barbarous natoes. And
whilst the treasure is a-digging^ there must be read
the psalms Deprafundis, Misereatur nostri, Requiem,
Pater noster, Ave Maria, Et ne nos inducas in ten^
tationem, sed libera noa a malo, Amen, A porta infemi
credo videre bona, S^c,, and then a certain prayer. And
if the (ime of digging be selected the devil vrill carry
all the treasure away." Reg. Scot Discoverie of
Witchcraft, p. 102.
All money-diggers^ ho^^ewr, mtght to take warning

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

DREAMING TIM JABVlft. 285

by the f«te oC one recorded in Dodeley'i Annntl Re*
gisterfor 177i.

'' Daniel Healey of Donoghmore, in Ireland, having
three different timet dreamed that money lay concealed
under a large atone in a field near where he lived, pro-
cured aome workmen to awlat him In remoring it;
and when they had dug at far aa the foondationj it
auddenly fell and killed Healey on the tpot"

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

RENT-DAY.

*' Oh ullagone^ ullagone ! this is a wide worlds
but wliat will we do in it, or where will we go ?"
muttered Bill Doody, as he sat on a rock by the
Lake of Killamey. " What will we do ? to-
morrow 's rent-day, and Tim the Driver swears
if we don't pay up our rent, he'll cant every
hd'perth we have ; and then, sure enough, there 's
Judy and myself, and the poor little grawls* will
be turned out to starve on the high road, for the
never a hali^enny of rent have I ! — Oh hone,
that ever I should live to see this day !"

Thus did Bill Doody bemoan his hard fate,
pouring his sorrows to the reckless waves of the
most beautiful of lakes, which seemed to mock his
misery as they rejoiced beneath the cloudless sky
of a May morning. That lake, glittering in sun-
shine, sprinkled with fairy isles of rock and ver-
dure, and bounded by giant hills of ever- varying

•Children.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

KENT-DA Yi 237

hues> mighty with its magic beauty^ charm all
sadness but despair ; for alas,

'^ How ill the scene that offers rest
And heart that cannot rest agree !"

Yet Bill Doody was not so desolate as he sup-
posed; there was one listening to him he little'
thought of, and help was at hand from a quarter'
he could not have expected.

" What 's the matter with you, my poor man ?"
said a tall portly-looking gentleman, at the same
time stepping out of a furze brake. Now Bill
was seated on a rock that commanded the view of
a large field. Nothing in the field could be con--
cealed from him, except this furze-brake, which
grew in a hollow near the margin of the lake.
He was, therefore, not a little surprised at the
gentleman's sudden appearance, and began to
question whether the personage before him be-
longed to this world or not. 'He, however, soon-
mustered courage sufficient to tell him how- his
crops had failed, how some bad member had
charmed away his butter, and how Tim the
Driver threatened to turn him out of the farm-
if he didn't pay up every penny of the rent by
twelve o'clock next clay.

" A sad story, indeed," said the stranger ; " but

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

298 KSVT^DAY.

saxdj, if 70U r^[XEeseated the case to your land-
. lord's agents he won't have the heart to turn you
out."

'* Hearty your honour ! where would an agent
get a heart !" exclaimed Bill. '^ I see your ho-
nour does not know him; hesides, he has an eye
cm the &rm this long time for a fosterer of his
own; so I expect no mercy at all^ at all^ only to
he turned out."

'' Take, this, my poor fellow^ take this/' said
the stranger^ pouring a purse full of gpld into
Bm's old hat^ which in his grief he had flung on
the ground. " Pay the fellow your rent> hut I '11
take care it shall do him no good. I rememher
the time when things went otherwise in this
coimtry^ when I would have hung up such a fel*.
low in the twinkling of an eye !"

These words, were lost upoQ Blll^ who was in-
seosiU^ to every thing hut the sight of the gold,
and before he could uni&x his ga£e> and, lift up
his head to pour out his hundred thousand bless*
inff, the stranger was gone. The bewildered
peasant looked around ia searcl\ of his l)enefactori
and at last he thought he saw him riding on a
white horse a lon^ way off on the lake.

'^ O'Donoghue, O'DonoghueJ" shouted Bill;
'^ the good^ the blessed O'Donoghue !" atd he ran

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

capenag like awaihnan to show Judy the gold,
and to lejoice her heart with the pEOGpect of wealth
and happiness.

The next day BiU proceeded to the agent's ;
not sneakingly^ with his hat in his hand, his eyes
fixed on the ground^ and his knees handing under
him ; hut hold and upright, like a nuin conscious
of his independence.

''Why don't you take aS your hat» fellow;
don't you know you are speaking to a magistrate ?"
said the agent.

'' I know I 'm not speaking to the king, sir,"
said BiU ; ^ and I never takes off my hat hat to
them I can respect and love. The Eye that sees
all knows I 've no right either to respect or love
an agent !"

" You scoundrel. !" retorted the man in office,
biting his lips with rage at such an unusual and
unexpected opposition, '' I '11 teach you how to be
insolent again*—! have the power, remember."

" To the cost of .the country, I know you have,"
said Bill, who still remained with his head as
firmly covered as if he was the lord Kingsaie him-
self.

'' But, come," said the magistrate ; " have you
got the money fdr me ? — this is rent-day. If
there 's one penny o£ it wanting, or the running
gale that's due, prepare to turn out before night,

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

240 RENT-DAT.

for yon shall not remain another hour in po8«
session.

" There is your rent," said Bill, with an un-
moyed expression of tone and countenance; ^' you 'd
better count it, and give me a receipt in fiill for
the running gale and all."

The agent gave a look of amazement at the
gold ; for it was gold — real guineas ! and not bits
of dirty ragged small notes, that are only fit to
light one's pipe with. However willing the agent
may have been to ruiu^ as he thought, the unfor-
tunate tenant, he took up the gold, and handed
the receipt to Bill, who strutted off with it as
proud as a cat of her whiskers.

The agent going to his desk shortly after, was
confounded *at beholding a heap of gingerbread
cakes instead of the money he had deposited there.
He raved and swore, but all to no purpose; the
gold had become gingerbread cakes, just marked
like the guineas, with the king's head, and BOl
had the receipt in his pocket ; so he saw there was
no use in saying any thing about the afiOur, as he
would only get laughed at for his pains.

From that hour Bill Doody grew rich ; all his
undertakings prospered ; and he often blesses the
day that he met with O'Donc^hue, the great prince
that lives down under the lake of Killamey.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

Dogbue if given in the preceding Tolume, where, to
lue the wordf of Miii Luhy, (the Uir minstrel of Kil-
hmey,)

'' Aerial ipiriU in t hetvenly throng
Bkim the blue wtvefl, tnd follow him tlong."
Spirit ojtht Ixiket, c. ii.

Hlien tt KilUmcy iji the «pring of WZii, the writtr
receiveil the following accounU o( the appearance of
O'Donoghue from actual ipecutori. The flrit from a
man who was employed in the; mines at Ross about
twelve or thirteen years before, when colonel Hall
had carried an excavation under the lake, which in-
vasion of his dominions was popularly considered to
he extremely offl'nsive to O'Donoghue.

** I saw him, sir/' he continuedi ** early in the morn-
ing, when the water liroke into the mines, sweeping
all before it like a raging w%, and made the workmen
fly for their lives. It was Just at daybreak that morn-
ing I saw him on the Uke, followed by numlK-rs of
men mounted upon horseback like earvally (cavalry),
and each having a drawn sword as briglit as the day
In bis r^lil hatiil, iinrl « mrlmnrk iemihin^) dung at
Tanil lib hiirv^* ^ ■ thirig like a greit
♦1** *ky» a»«l t'n^twtd ihem nlJ
noreof O'iiu-

« i' iim^iti UfUally
liltnaln)

348 RCN7W0AT*

O'Donc^e^mey IkiI wiioie real aame was £dw«id Doo- '
Ian; and the a«oara^y of his statement is confirmed
by Tim Lyne^ the old coxswain.

" Ten years ago we went out about seven o'dock
in the morning to make a long day on the lakes; the
water was calm and the sun was shining bright^ and
it was just nine o'clock when we saw O'Donoghue
going from the * half- moon' of Toomies round Rabbit
Island. He was dressed in wbite> with & cocked-hat^
and shoes with great buckles in them, and he walked
very smurt on the water^ spattering it up before him ;
James Curtin, who pulled the bow oar, saw him^ too,
|6r as good as seven minutes, and he is alive and able
to speak the truth as well as myself We had two
gentlemen in the boat at the time. One of them was
a counsellor Moore from Dublin, and they made great
wonder at the sight O'Donoghuje, when he finds
poor travellers benighted* who are coming for KiU
Umey, takes them down into hia palace below the
lake, where he entertains them grandly without their
paying ai^y coal. The white horse thati he sometimes
tides, and whose image is in a rock upon the lake, is
called Crebough"

The circulation of money bestowed by the jfoirieB
or supernatural personages, like that of counterfidt
coin, is seldom extensive. The story in the Arabiaii
Nights, of tlie old rogue whose fine-looking money
turned to leaves, must be familiar to every reader.
When Waldemar, Holger, and Green Jette, in Danish
tradition, bestow money upon the Boors whom they^

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

RENT-DAY. 243

meet^ their gift sometimes turns to fire, sometimes to
pebbles^ and sometimes is so hot^ that the receiver
drops it from his hand, when the gold, or what seemed
to be so, sinks into the ground and disappears. In
some cases these changes take place as in the fore-
going tale, after the Boors have parted with their
money. If a piece of coal, or any thing in appear-
mee equally yalueless, is given, it alwayi^ if kept,
pn>v«s to be gold. The travelfing musicians, who
had Uie honour to play belbw llie enchanted G^man
emperor, Frederidc, in the monntsitt in wbidi he re-
fiides, were each rewariled by the moBucb with a green
branch. Highly incensed at such shabby wages, Aey
all except one flung away the gift^ and went out of the
mountain. One minstrel, however^ who kept his branch
found it growing heavy in his hand, and on examina^
tion he discovered that it was composed of pure gold.
His companions immediately went back to look for
those which they had thrown away, but their brapcbes
were not to be founds

r2

d by Google

SCATH-A-LEGAUNE,

" Well, for sure and certain^ there must be
something in it^" said Johnny Curtin^ as he awoke ^
and stretched himself one fine mornings '' for cer-
tain there must be something in it, or he 'd never
have come the third time. Troth and faith^ as I
can't do it myself without help, 1 11 just speak
to the master about it, for half a loaf is better
than no bread any day in the year."

Johnny Curtin was a poor scholar ; he had been
stopping for the last week at the house of Dick .
Cassidy, a snug farmer, who lived not far from
the fine old abbey of Holy Cross, in the county
of Tipperary. Mr. Cassidy was a hearty man,
and loved a story in his soul ; and Johnny Cur-
tin had as good a budget of old songs, and stories
of every kind and sort, as any poor scholar that
ever carried an ink-bottle dangling at his breast,
or a well-thumbed book and a slate under his arm.
He was, moreover, as good a man in a hay-field,
for a boy of his years, as need to be, so that no
one was a more welcome guest to Dick Cassidy in
harvest time than Johnny Curtin*

The third night after <

SCATH-A-LKGAUKE. 245

quarters at Cassidy's farm-house^ after sitting up
very late^ and telling his most wonderful stories
to Dick and the children, Johnny went to sleep
on a shake-down (of straw) in a comer, and there
he dreamed a dream. For he thought that an
old man, with a fine long beard, and dressed^
£rom head to foot in the real old ancient Irish
fashion, came and stood beside him, and called
him by his name«

" Johnny Curtin, my child," said the old man,
" do you know where you are ?"

^^ I do, sir," said Johnny, though great was
bis surprise. " I do, sir," said he ; "I am at
DickCassidy's."

" John, do you know," says he, " that this
land belonged, in the good old times, to your own
people?"

" Oh I 'm sure," says Johnny, " it 's little my-
self knows about my own people, beyond my fa-
ther and my mother, who,' when one would catch
the fish, the other would sell it ; but this I know,
if 'tis as your honour says, and not doubting your
word in the least, that I wish my own people had
kept their land^ that I might have got the laming
without begging for it from door to door through
the country."

" John," said the old man, " there 's a treasure
not far from this that belonged to the family, and

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

246 8CATH-A-(LE6AUKK.

if jaa get tty ft will moke jaa, and fiftr like yoa>
as rich » kings. Now, mind mj words, John
Ctntin, £or I hare oome to put 70a in the right
way. Yon know Ae iieight ahove the Mtey*^
die hlessed ^lot where the piece of the hoij eross
"fell from ks coBceafanent 1^ the sweet soand of
&e akbey faeUs, and where the good woman met
her son, aitet has having travelled to Jerusalem for
it ? You know the old bush that ig«tending there
-^^caih-a^egmme — in the Ueak sitnation, close
to the road, upon die little hank of earth and
stones ? dig just six feet from it, in a line with
the tower of the old abbey; the work most be done
in the dead hour of the night, and not a word must
he spdcen to living man."

When Johnny woke next morning he recollected
every part of his dream well, but he gave no great
heed to it. The next night he dreamed that the
same old man came to him again and spoke the
very same words ; and in the course of the day
foUowing^ he could not help going up to Scath-a-
legaune, to take a look at the old bush and the
Uide bank of stones and earth, but still he thought
it all nonsense going digging diere. At last, when
die. old man came to him in his sleep the third
time, and seemed rather angry with him, he re*
solved to hroadi the matter to Dick af^ break-
bat, and see if he would join him in die seaidu

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

SCATH->A-L£GAUNk« 24T

Now Dick Cassidy, like mAny wiser men, was a
fitm believer in dreams; and Didc was also a
prudent man/ and willing to better himidelf and bis
family in any honest way, so be gave at once into
Jobnny's proposal, tbat tbey should both go the
next n^ht and dig under the bush. When Cas-
sidy mentioned this scheme to Peggy his wife, ^e
being a religious woman, was much against it, and
wanted Dick not to go, and tried to persu^e him to
take neither hand, nor act, nor part in it ; but Dic^
was too sensible a man, and too fond of his own
way, to be said by any foolish woman : so it was
settled, that at twelve o'clodc he and Johnny
Curtin should take spade, pick*-axe, and crow-bar
with them, and set out fmr the bui^, having agreed
to divide fairly between them whatever they should

After a good supper, and a stiff jug of punch
to keep their hearts up, Mr. Cassidy and Johnny
Curtin, regardless of the admonitions of Peggy,
set out. They had to pass close under tlie walls
of the old abbey, and the wind, which was rather
high) kept flapping the branches of the ash axid ivy
backwards and forwards, and now and then some
of the old stones would tumble down, and the
boughs would move and creak with a soand just
like the voice of some Christian that was in pain.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

^\a

248 SCAT ApA-LEG AUNE;

Dick and Johnny^ with all their courage^ were
not much assured at hearing this ; but they did
not remain very long to listen^ and* crossing the
bridge with all convenient speedy directed their
steps towards Scatli^a-legaune. When they got
to the old bush^ Dick^ without a moment's delay^
threw off his coat, stepped the six feet of ground
from the little bank towards the tower of the
abbey, and began to turn up the sod, and then to
dig hard and fast. Johnny all the time stood by,
praying to himself, and making pious signs on his
forehead and breast. When Dick had dug for
better than an hour, he found his spade strike
against something hard. He cleared out the loose
earth from the hole he had made, and then found
that he had come to a great broad flag-stone which
was lying quite flat : he saw plainly that he and
Johnny could no more lift it than they could fling
the rock of Cashel back again into the Devil's bit ;
so he got up out of the hole and made motions to
Johnny Curtin,. minding well not to speak a word ;
and they threw in part of the clay to cover up the
flag, and went home to bed planning to get more
help against the next night, and fully convinced
of success.

The next day Cassidy pitched on three of his
best and stoutest men, an'd in the evening early

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

took them down to the sign of the Saint *> kept hy
one Mullowney in the village^ and proposed the job
to them> after giving each a rummer of Roscrea t.
They hesitated at the firsts saying it was not
lucky, and they never heard^of good that came
out of money that was got at through the means
of dreams, and so on, until Dick ordered a second
rummer for every man : then he made Johnny tell
them his dream over again from beginning to end,
and he asked them, if they could see any reason
upon earth to doubt what Johnny Curtin told
them, or that the old man came to him through
his sleep, and he able to mention every pin's worth
of his dress. Dick argued with them in this man-
ner, saying a thousand things more of the same
kind, until they made an end of their drink, and
then he made an offer of giving them a fair share
of whatever money was under the flag-stone.

The men at last were over-persuaded ; and be-
tween eleven and twelve they set out, provided
with spades, shovels, and good crow-bars. When
they came to the rise of the height, Johnny ttopped,
and again told them that all their work was sure
to fail if any one spoke a word ; and he said that
iikiM-4? iuu«t bt.* kept, let what wuuUl huppeii, athcnr-
' re waa no chuuce uf mtiking out the trea*

t WK^dcey.

oegk ^

250 SCATH^A-tSOAXJKS.

sare that l)ey0nd ftll dmibt was lying 1&ei« kiried
down in the gMnnd.

They cleared away the earth from off the stone^
and got the crow-bars under it. The first prize
they ga^ they thought they heard a rumbli|^g
noise bdow : tliey stopped and listened for a mi-
nute or more, but all was.siknt as the grave.
Again they heaved^ and thoe was a noise like as
if a door was clapped to violently. The men hesi-
tated^ but Dick Cassidy and Johnny, by signs, en-
couraged them to go on. They then made a great
effort and raised the stone a little, while Johnny -
and Tom Doyle wedged in the handles of their
spades, and with their united strength the 4ag
was canted fairly over.

Beneath there was a long fii^t of steps, so they
lit a piece of candle which they had brought with
them, and down the steps they went, one after
the other. The steps, when they got to the end
of them^ led into a long passage, that went some
way, and there they would have been sto^^ed by
a strong door, only it was half open. They went
in boldly, and saw another door to the lefl, whicit
was shut. There was a little grate in this door;
and Dick Cassidy held up the light while Ned
Flaherty looked in.

" Hurra V' cried Ned, the minute he put his
eye to the bars, and straightways. making a blow

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

8CATH-A>L£&AirK£. 251

at the door, with the crow-har in his hand—
'^ Hurra^ boys I" says he ; '^ by Noonan's ghost 1
we are all made men !"

The words had hardly passed his lips when
there was a tfemendous crashing noise, just as if
the whole place was falling in^ and t^n caae a
screeching wind from the inner room that whisked
oat the lig^t^ and threw them all on the ground
fiat on their faces. When they recovered them-
selves they hardly remembered where they were,
or what had happened, and they had lo6t all the
geography of the place. They groped and tumbled
about for a long time, and at last they got, with
falling and roaring, to the door where they had
come in at, and made their way up the steps into
the field. On looking towards the abbey, there
was a bri^t flame on the top of its tower, and
Bill Dunn would have sw<nm he saw a figure of
something, he could not rightly make odt what^
in the middle of it, dancing up and down.

Frightened enough they were at the sight, for
they plainly perceived something was going on
which they could not understand, so they made the
best of their way home ; but it was little any of
them could sleep, as may well be supposed^ after
what had happened.

J^ext Tiruiming they aU held a council about what
was fiirtfaer to be done— Mr. Cassidy and Johnny

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

252 SCATH-A-LE6AUNE.

Curtin^ Tom I>ojle, and Bill Dunn^ and Ned Fla-
herty, whose tongue was the reason of their not
being 'all rich men. Some were for giving the busi-
ness up entirely, but more were for trying it again ;
and at last Dick Cassidy said he was resolved to
go to it the third time, since he was now certain
the coin was there ; for Ned Flaherty swore he saw
a mint of money, beside gold and .silver vessels in
heaps, and other grand things that he could not
tell the use of. It was settled, however, to do
nothing the next night.

In the middle of the day Dick took Johnny with
him, and walked over to look at the place where
they had been digging; but what was their asto-
nishment to fi^d the ground as smooth and as even
as if there had not been a spade put into it since
the days of Brian Boro ! Not a morsel of clay was
to be seen, and the white daisies and the glossy
yellow butter-cups were growing up through the
green grass as gaily there, as if nothing had ever
happened to disturb them.

That night Johnny Curtin had another dream.
The very same old man came to him, and looked
dark and angry at him for not having followed his
directions; and told Johnny that he had no right
to think, and that if his laming made him think
he was better without it, he had lost all chance of
growing rich, and would be a poor scholar to the

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

end of his dojs; £ar -^ jmk
for another hundred j^easL am tisr r v v^
dangerous for him or tar tae ^sat x ^ x*J5t^
there until that time -ra. mc

The stones abmr .laaiii- -riu^
covered tfarooi^ wciirnisL ae^^*^ r-
are so nnm uui aac- x r.Lrt-a-n lu*:.-
be filled widi Asa i ys: ti/— r^- ^-
tafls, bejoad ^e aescn an.-: jva. r^^^sL

The foS mmji^ It=E*s-tt -=»- r r _ :
from the Dtaiiaa. -r-H xaS-i^ -i . *t«'
although dej UmBscB^ s^arr ^

That mt: mZ. TX Vr «r^ iRar ^ --^aart^rf i*. r ^«

on guard ;&es3e -nc^^ti*^ t-r ^r-*^ k*^ * ^^sr -«
gone to dbe ot^ x ■saoRr^r ^^ «<. «• ^ * » f .^

came to ^e«£ier: aoc n^E*- \ t... ma t^ m

an imfcaiyjf «sim «^-j -xm*- •*Mt-.*r"-< ,a#rr ^i^

manj knidb»:t 7«3rr -rr arr*-- *-. • . -^ %»

grare. &e -si^n if*.-r-r*<r .-« -^ uj.^ ^ ^tm

of theca0:iiei.S7*9r z?=saaB»-«K« -=.-.i--^ju-' • - ^*i^

three ausija iii^ •»'-•-.* ♦•-- - lac-. ^, - ^^ 41

he wa« «se v' 1;^ :.-5=r^ "*^' a* • . ^ -^ ^

YiT^iar^ssat aor ss^r^ »**»r..« - . -^ ^^ —^

inga^^

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

254 SCATH-A-LEGAUXE.

The other wddier meanwhile had come back from
the town^ just as the appointment was made with his
comrade. He said nothing ahout what unseen he had
seen and heard^ but went early the next evenings and
concealed himself among some bushes. When his fel*
low-soldier came with his spade and shovel he found
the white woman at the appointed place^ but when shu
perceived that they were watched she put off the busi-
ness till the next evening. The man who had laiu
on the watch to no purpose^ went home^ and suddenly
fell ill; and as he thought that he should die of that
sickness^ he sent for his comrade, and told him how f
he knew all» and conjured him not to have any thing #
to do with witches or with spirits^ but rather to seek y
counsel of the priest, who was a prudent man. The ^
other thought it would be his wisest plan to follow the ^
advice of his comrade, so he went and discovered the #
whole affair to the priest, who, however, deared him i
to do as tbe spirit had bid him, only to make her lay ^
the first hand to the work herself. *

The appointed time was now arrived^ and the mas <
was at the place. When the white woman had pointed
out to him the spot, and they were just beginning the
work, she said to him, that when the treasure was taken
up, one half ef it should be his, hut that he must
divide the other half equally between the church
and the poor. Then the devil entered into the man,
and awakened his covetousness, so that he cried out*
'' WixsX ! shall I not have the whole ?" But scarcely
had he spoken, when the figure, with a most mournful

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

wail> pMsed in ft blue flame ofver the moftt af the catde,
and the man fell sick, and died within three da]rt.

The Btory loon spread through the country, and a
poor scholar who heard it thought he had now an op*
portunity of. making hia fortune. He therefore went
at midnight to the place> and there he met widi the
wandering white woman ; and he told her why he waa
come, and offered his services to raise the treasure.
But she answered him that he was not one of the three»
one of whom alone could free her ; and that the wall
^ould still remain so firro« that no human being should
be able to break it. She tether told him, that at some
future time he should be rewarded for hia good in-
clination. And it ia said, that when a long time after
he passed by that plaoe^ and thought with compas-
sion on the sufferings of the unblest woman, he fell
on his face orer a great heap of money, which soon put
him agfiin on his feet But the wall still stands un-
disturbed ; and aa often as any one has attempted to
throw it down, whatever ia thrown down in the day
is replaced again in the night— -ilBa«^ Foikesof^f
wL iv. p. 33.

i hrct [Tit 11 went once, iu the nigbt-timev to Khim-

I try tlicii- luck, tar l dragon waicbi^ there over

Thtjy dug into the ground, giving

rlmr)!:t^ not to witct a word, what*

lUic^rwiBe all their bbour would

i\\i^] prttty tU-ep, their

tclua : ihtj thin made

ioogle

256 SCATH-A-LEGAUNK.

signs to one another^ and all^ with both hands^ laid
hold of a great copper ring that was on the top of the
chesty and pulled up the treasure ; but when they bad
just got it into their possession, one of them forgot the
necessity of silence, and shouted out, " One pull more,
and we have it !" That very instant the chest flew
away out of their hands to the lake of Stuierup, but
as they all held hard on the ring it remained in their
grasp. They went and fastened the ring on the door
of St. Olai's church, and there it remains to this t€tj
daj.-^Danske Folkesag-n, vol. i. p. 112.

" In the next country to that of my former re-
sidence," says Kirke, in his Secret Commonwealth,
" about the year 1676, when there was some scafcity
of grain, a marvellous illapse and vision strongly struck
the imagination of two women in one night, living at
a good distance from one another^ about a treasure
hid in a hill, called Sithhhenaich, or fairy hill. The
appearance of a treasure was first represented to the
fancy, and then an audible voice named the place
where it was to their awaking senses. Whereupon,
both arose, and meeting accidentally at the plstce
discovered their design, and jointly digging, found a
vessel as large as a Scottish peck full of small pieces
of good money of ancient coin, which halving betwixt
them, they sold in dishfulls for dishfuUs of meal to
the country-people. Very many of undoubted credit
saw and had of the coin to this day. But whether it
was a good or bad angel, one of the subterranean

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

0CAT1HA-LXOAUME. 257

people, or the eoot of him who hid it that dlioovered
H, and to whet end it wee dene^ I leave to the ex*
emineiioiiorothefe/'— P. l!i.

The appearance of the tower of Holy Croie Ahhej
on fire ia a eommon tupematural tlUieioD. Another
illiietration it oflbred from the Daneke Felkeeagn,
which may he acceptahle, ae Mr. Thiele'i eiirioaa
work ia little known to the Enghah reader.

^' Near Daugitrap there ie a hill which it called
Daugtjerg Doua. Of thia hill it ia related that it it
at all tiroei eorered with a bine miit» and that under
it there liet a large copper kettle full of money. One
night two men went there to dig after thia treaaure,
and they had got lo far ai to have laid hold of the
handle of the kettle. All lorta of wonderful things
began then to appear to disturb them in their work*
One time a coach, drawn by four black horses, drove
by them ; then they saw a black dog with a fiery
tongne, then there came a cock drawing a load of
hay. But still the men persisted in not letting them-
selves be induced to speak, and still dug on without
stopping. At last a fellow came limping by them
anil Ml J, ' See, Daugitmp b on fire !' ftiiJ when they

ik\\ lawtnb tlic town, il ftfrpciirnJ tjuictly aa if

i if J a bright Haiti f. J hi^ at length

i kiTp feili'Ucts mid the moment

tiiu irtafturc sunk deeper

aft any Mtempt has

J^ro).!-. [i.ive, by their

cc<«."-VoL iv.

iogle

258 SCATB-A-LSaAUVE.

The ndgbbottrhood of Holy Ciom abotmdi in won-
don. From the Cashel roid the hill of Killoof^ is
pointed oat to the tniTeUer te Oardeen a Herin, the
garden of IreUnd, in coneeqnenoe of a belief that
it is a national natural botanic establishment, and
that erery plant which grows in Ireland is to be found
upon it. Not fkr from 8cath-a-Legaune a small clear
stream of water crosses the road from a spring called
TubheT'O^Doragh, Doran's Well ; whoever drinks at
this fountain it is supposed will nerer feel the sensa-
tion of thirst, or a wish for water again. But there
is really no end to tales of this kind.

LINN.NA-PAY8HTHA.

Travbllbbs go to Leinster to see Dublin and
tlie Dargle ; to Ulsteri to lee the Giant's Cause-
y/nj, and, perhaps^ to do penance ut Lough Dearg ;
to Munster^ to see Killarney, the butter-buying
dty of Cork^ and half a doxen other fine things ;
but whoever thinks of the fourth province ? — who-
ever thinks of going^

" — westward^ where Dick Martin ruled
The houseless wilds of Cunnemara?"

The Ulster-man's ancient denunciation ^' to
Hell or to Connaught/' has possibly led to the
supposition that this is a sort of infernal plaa*
above ground — a kind of terrestrial Pandemonium
— in shorty that Connaught is little better than
hellj or hMl \Ht]n wtmo thgn Tonnflugbt ; but
onu only g«J there for a iiiontli, and* m
ay, '* I 'U wamat h«*ll «oon kc*? thi*
In i J m!c rotund thnf it h fiitgbty
(ily *omrtbitig ptwnT ;**
iKiii in thU ptirtk'uJai
liut ^j 4 i*,
• 2

teask.

260 L1KV-NA-PAT8HTHA.

** My gradous me," said the landlady of the
Inn at Sligo, '* I wonder a gentleman of your
teest and curotity would think of leaving Ireland
without making a tower (tour) of Connaught, if
it was nothing more than spending a day at Ha^
zlewood, and up the lake, and on to the wld^
ahbey at Friarstown, and the castle at Dromahmr."
Polly M'Bride, my kind hostess, might not in
this remonstrance have heen altogether disinte-
rested, but her advice prevailed, and the dawn
of the following morning found me in a boat on
the unruffled surface of Lough Gill. Arrived at
the head of that splendid sheet of water, covered
. with rich and wooded islands, with their ruined
buildings, and bounded by towering mountains,
noble plantations, grassy slopes, and precipitous
rocks, which give beauty, and» in some places,
sublimity to its shores, I proceeded at once up
^the wide river which forms its principal tributary.
The " ould abbey" is chiefly remarkable for having
been built at a period nearer to the Reformation
than any other ecclesiastical edifice of the sam^
class. Full within view of it, and at the distance
of half a mile, stands the shattered remnant of
Brefihi's princely hall. I strode forward with <the
enthusiasm of an antiquary, and the high beating
heart of a patriotic Irishman. I felt mys^ on
x^lassic ground, immortalized by the lays of Swift

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

V

LINK-NA-PATSHTHA. 261

fuad of Moore. I pushed soy way into the hal-
lowed precincts of the grand and yenerable edi-
&ifeb I entered its diambers^ and, oh my country-
men, I found them converted into the domidle
of pigs, cows, and poultry ! But the exterior of
'^ O'Rourke's old hall," grey, frowning, and ivy-
oorered, is well enough ; it stands on a beetling
precipice, round which a noble river wheels its
oottrse. The opposite bank is a very steep fiscent,
thiddy wooded, and rising to a height of at least
seventy feet, and, for a quarter of a mile, Iftdi
beautiful copse follows the course of the river.

The first individual I encountered was an old
jDowherd ; nor was I unfortunate in my Oicerone,
for he assured me there were plenty of old stc^ries
about strange things that used to be in the place ;
*' but," continued he, ''for my own share, I never
met any thing worse nor myself. If it bees ould sto-
ries that your honour's aftqp, the story about Linn-
na-Payshtha and PouL-maw-Qullyawii is the only
thing about this place that 's worth one jack-straw.
Does your honour see that great big black hole in
l^e river yonder below?" He pointed my atten-
tion to a part of the river about fifty yards fzon
the old hall, where a long island occupied ipi
eentre of the wide current, the water at one side
running shallow, and at the other assumiiig every
Uppearanoe of unfathomable depth. The spaicious

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

262 LINN-NA-PAT6HTHA.

pool^ dark and stilly wofe fi deatH-like quietude of
Burface. It looked as if the speckled trout Would
shun its murky precincts — as if eVen the daring
pike would shrink from so gloomy a dwelling-
place. *' That 's Linn-na^Payshtha^ sir," resumed
my guide, ^^ and Poul-maw-OuUyawn is just the
very moral of it, only that it 's round, and not in a
river, hut standing out in the middle of a green
field, ahout a short quarter of a mile from this^
Well, 'tis as good as fourscore years — I often hard
my father, Ood he merciful to him ! tell the story
— since Manus O'Kourke, a great huckeen, a cock*
fighting, drinking hlackguard that was long ago,
went to sleep one night and had a dream ahout
Linn-na-Payshtha. This Manus, the dirty spal^^
peen, there, was no ho with him ,* he thought to
ride rough-shod over his betters through the whole
country, though he was not one of the real stock
of the O'Rourkes. Wjell, this fellow had a dreain
that if he dived in Linn-na-Pays^tha at twelve
o'clock of a Hollow-eve night, he 'd find more ^Id
than would make £l man of him and hi^ wife while
grass grew or water ra«. The next night he had
the same dream, and sure enough if he had it the
second night, it came to him the third in the same
form. ]ManuSj well hecoine^ hhnj ncvm* told iDflii*
kind or womankind^ hul awOf^ to htm^eif, by sU
the hooks thiit ever wcrt tUol or ti^m. ihwj wiy

LINN-NA-PAYSHTHA. 263

how, he would go to the bottom of the big hole:
What did he care for the Payshtha-more that was
lying there to keep guard on the gold and silver
of the old ancient family that was buried there -in
the wars, packed up in the brewing-pan ? Sure
he was as good an O'Rourke as the best of them,
taking core to forget that his grandmother's fa-
ther was a cow-boy to the earl O'Donnel. At
long last Hollow-eve came, and sly and silent
master Manus creeps to bed early, and just at
midnight steals down to the river side. When
he came to the bank his mind misgave him^ and
he wheeled up to Prank M^Clure's—the old Frank
that was then at that time — and got a bottle of
whiskey, and took it with him, and 'tis unknown
how much of it he drank. He walked across to
the island, and down he went gallantly to the
bottom like a stone. Sure enough the Payshtha
was there afore him, lying like a great big conger
eel, seven yards long, and as thick as a bull in the
body, with a mane upon his neck like a horse.
The Payshtha-more reared himself up, and look-
ing at the poor man as if he 'd eat him, says he,
in good English,

" ' Arrah, then, Manus,' says he, * what brought
you here ? It would have been better for you to
have blown your brains out at once with a pistol.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

264 X^INN-NA<^PAY6flTHa.

and have mode a quiet end of fouijself^ tkan to
ha^e come down here for me to deal with you/

*' ' Oh^ plase your honour,' says Manus, ^ I
beg my life :' and there he stood shalfii^ like a
dog in a wet sad^

" ' Well, as you have some blood of the
(XBourlLes in you, I forgive you this once ; but
by this, and by that, if ever I see you, or any one
b^lengmg to you, coming about this place again,
I '11 hang a quarter of you on every tree in the
wood.'

^' ^ Go home,' says the Payshthar— ' go home,
Maaus/ says he; 'and if you can't n^Jie better
use of your timf^ getdrunk, but don't come here,
bothering me. Yet, stop! since you are here,
and have ventu^ to come, I 'U show you some-
thing that you '11 remember till you go to your
grave, and ever after, while you live.'

'f With that J ray dear, he opens an iron door in
the bed of the riveri and Tuauuj^ drop of water ran
into it ; and there Mm^^^^^ong i
under-ground i
him in, and ahuU the
the baste began to
smBller ; and at last 1
of twelve yeara old;
little manj, ab

LIKV-N A^ FAYtHTHA. S66

** * Plate joar honour/ tayi Mamii, ' if I
odght make §o bold, majrfae you are one of the
good ptopUf

'* ' Maybe I am, and aaaybe I am not ; but,
anyhow, all you have to undentand ii this, that
I 'm bound to look after the Thiemas* of Breffhi,
and take oare of them through every generation ;
and that my preient buiinen it to watch this care,
and what 's in it, till the old ftock if reigning over
thii country once more.'

** ' Maybe you are a lort of a banihee f *

<'' I am not, you fool,' nid the little man.
' The banihee is a woman. My business is to
live in die form you first saw me in, guarding
this spot. And now hold your tongue, and look
about you.'

** Menus rubbed his eyes, and looked right and
left, before and behind ; and there was the vessek
of gold and the vessels of silver, the dishes, and
the plates, and the cups, and the punch-bowls,

JMV thai ewrv 'I'Iuutui lU lun wc<ying wn^A to
|«. «lu IviTug ill xt^ uiK{Yipbaiigh.

tlinr I \'!-r wiis saved in

i<« \\\<y titneof

266 LINN-NA-PAYSHTHA.

their outer niination. He then brought Mtfnus
on with him to where there was arms for three
hundred men ; and the sword set with diamonds,
and the golden helmet of the O'Rourke ; and he
showed him the staff made out of an elephant's
tooth, and set with rubies and gold, that the
Thiema used to hold while he sat in his great hall,
. giving justice and the laws of the Brehons to all
his dan. The first room in the cave, ye see, had
the money and the plate, the second room had the
arms, and the third had the books, papers, parch-
ments, title-deeds, wills, and every thing dbe of
the sort belonging to the family.

" ' And now, Manus,' says the little man, ' ye
seen the whole o' this, and go your ways ; but
never come to this place any more, or allow any
one else. I must keep watch and ward till the
Sassanach is dmv out of Ireland, and the Thiemas
o' Brefini in their glory again.' The little man thtn
stopped for a while and looked up in Manus' faoe^
and says to him in a great passion, ' Arrah ! bad
luck to ye, Manus, why don't ye go about your
business^'

*' ^ How can I ? — sure you must show me the
way out,' says ManuS; making answer. The little
,man then pointed forward with his finger.

'* ' Can't we go out the way we came ?' says
Manus.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

uxl: ; Jh- z^

.:s.

JERNA.

i^^ cer J lor the ex-

ncnn:^ .^ ^ inly see the

tr-^ r. wned by a

p*itr Ji- J. _ utry people

Trci»r .:_ _^ -a crooked

^-Jai-r. ._ is, that any

5^22r i . ^ considered

sprung up
)ple played
w no more

uema was
whose bed

ti. uu. ^ certainly

i:.^^ or young,

»- •■ i. fend me,

'- ^u. irison be-

^'-" •^ ^ ings, and

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

268 LmN*NA-PATSHTHA«

repoiei on the buried g^ld of Seandiiwria and Qer«
many ; and the Payshtha*more or great wonn> iu Ire*
land, protects the wealth of O'Rourke. Of so wide-
sfHread a belief, perhi^ the following is the true
origin.

'* Couvira ou Paulestya est le dieu des richesses et
des tr^rs caches, I'ami des souterrains et des esprits
qui 7 resident, le protecteur deacavemes et des grottes,
le roi des rois. II habite la r^on du nord. La^ dans
Alaka, se demeure ordinaire, au centre d'une <^pais6e
foret, il est environn^^ d'une com brillante de genies
appeUs Kinnaras et Yakchas: oes demiers ont la
charge de donner ou de retirer, aux mort^, les bieiis
anr ksqnels ils viellent incessamment. Quelquefoia le
dieu leur souTerain se tient dans une grotte profonde
gard^ par des serpens, et d^fendue, en outre, par I'eau
et par le feu ; alors nu, et remarquable par I'^normit^
de son ventre, il yeille lui-meme sur ses tr^sors sou-
terrains." Creuzer, Religions de I'Antiquite, traduc-
tion de Guigniaut. Paris, 1825, y. i. p. 248.

On which the translator gives the following note :
^'L'habitation de Ck>uy^ra, au nord, dans les montagnes
^ui donnent Tor et les pierreries, est remarquable ; on
voit aussi Torigine de cette opinion, si ancienne et si
r^pandue, qui fait garder par des monstres et des
esprits les tr^sors cach^ au sein de la terre."

Mr. Owen (son of Dr. Owen Pughe).has Hndly
communicated to the compiler of this volume the fol-
lowing particulars respecting some treasure, which
still lies concealed in North Wales, and of l^ etiS^rts

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

LINN-NA-PAT^THiU 269

m»f^ and making to reeofcr it. Mr. Own't kttff m
dated Nantglyn, May 10, 1«7.

'' Some short time aga,"
to by a raaOj with a linr «f i
afibrd him any «s«i»tapcf m 1
Jle informed me he had vm
in the rudiments^ and y
turb the rest of any <
pleased him, and to ;
articles ahnost to infallftfli^; i
way was already pretty <
to enjoy a fair pordea «f ]
eyinoed great ca^ertness in <
the hoTokgieal and
tingnish the profound i
^ '^ This application, he i
krly instigated from the ■
in the science had giren 1
he had unsaccessfiilly
forty years before, mhtm ^ut
youth, and vain i
ments, had indnced 1
tore, he had radilj \
no person had aeesHffiihBd. la. a.
tradition {or ktmr gmlM^mi
asserts the existeMe af ft dl
greatapriie hel
efforts, snd he ]
mosteame
*<Fottifiedi

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

270 IINN-NA-PAYSHTHA.

ftindsh, he went to the diBtrict, and it was not long
before his art diseovered the unobtrusiye spot of the
gnomic deposit. He found the entrance of a cave —
with breathless expectation he explored its intricadea^
and at last arrired at its innermost recess : there he
perceived a mighty chest, but some mysterious in-
cubus brooded over the prize. Amid a mass of form-
less mist he discovered what were evidently talons of
a most fearful magnitude^ well suited to score the hide
of the hapless wight wKose spell might not be suf-
ficiently potent to lull the vigilance of this modem
Argus ; a beak of awful curve, and two lurid eyes,
whose basilisk influence unnerved all his powers. He
bought he perceived it unfold its wings ; dread pre-
paratory of an attack ; and finding no time was to be
lost, he fumbled for the spell which was to render this
appalling menace impotent. He found he had searched
in the wrong pocket, and nervous trepidation incapa-
citated him from a proper use of his faculties ; his
tongue refused to perform its office.; and in this cruel
dilemma the impatient fiend pounced upon him. He
felt its chilling grasp— and, stretched senseless, he saw
no more. When the blood again animated his frame,
he found himself laid upon the green sward, and every
joint racked with the most excruciating torments.
^ In this state,' he observed to his pupil, ^ I have
remained ever since ; my limbs have never recovered
their proper tone. I could have exemplified to you
the manner in which I must have been treated if
I had fortunately preserved the clothes I wore at

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

UMN-MA-PAYIHTHA. 271

the time : you would have Judged tome malidoui
plough-boy had drawn his harrows over me during
my swoon. The scratches on my body in such a
lapse of time have of course healed, but their marks re-
main.' 'My opinion is/ remarked the disciple, 'that
he ought not to have undertaken the task alone ; and
although, when the gold is considered, I would en-
counter the scratch of a demon with the talons of a
condor, yet, as it happened to him, a man may, after
groping bis way through those devious recesses, and
coming suddenly, perhaps, in view of the treasure and
its guardian, lose his presence of mind and use the
wrong incanution. Now I intend, if you, sir, will
write the spell very large and plain, so that this imp
can have no pretence to disregard it, to insert it in the
cleft of a stick as long as a fishing-rod, and taking
care to keep it in advance, I will hold it right under
his nose, and then we shall see V "

Mr. Owen adds that the old professor is still alive,
and resides on the banks of the Conwy.

Linn na Payshtha signifies the Pool of the Worm.
The latter word is correctly written Beuiin, the
diminutive of biatt or piasd, a little beast, which is
used for any worm or insect The application of
the term worm to the serpent tribe is very general ;
indeed the similarity of form naturally led to it.
Any one acquainted wiib the kgcruU of Ihc north
must be familiar with Linij^ormi, and in t)io»c of Off *
many the Lind-wurm is tio unfri-(]uent b^jot*
calls 8aun " 11 gran Vctma ;* Mit^ > >

272

UNN-NA-PATEHTHA.

proteheB Ewe with hanng lent an ear " to thst fake
warm ;" and Shakspeare says^ that slander's tODgne
" outrenoms all the warms of Nile^"

The scene of Dean Swift's well known rerses of
" CKRoarke's noble feast" was the old haU of Droma-
hair. They were translated from the Irisk of Hugh
Mac-Gowran <)f Glengoole in the county of Jiestrhtt»
who was a contemporary. The original begins tkus :

'* The Bevel-rout of the O'Rourkes is in the memory
of all men."

Digitized by LjOOQ IC.

FAIRY LEGENDS.

ROCKS AND STONES.

(( Forms in silence frown'd,

Shapeless and nrtneless ; and to mine eye

Sometimes they rolled off cloudily,

Wedding tbemselves with gloom— or grew

Gigantic to my troabled riew.

And seemed to gather roond me.**

BA]rix*s Celt*! Paeaotsi!:.

FART II.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

ROCKS AND STONES.

THE LEGEND OF CAIRN THIERNA.

Fbom the town of Fermoy^ famous for the ex-
cellence of its bottled ade^ you may plainly see the
mountain of Cairn Thiema. It is crowned by a
great heap of stones^ which^ as the country people
remark^ never came there without " a crooked
thought and a cross job." Strange it is^ that any
work of the good old times should be considered
one of labour; for round towers then sprung up
like mushrooms in one nighty and people played
marbles with pieces of rock^ that can now no more
be moved than the hills themselves.

This great pile on the top of Cairn Thiema was
caused by the words of an old woman^ whose bed
still remains — Lahacally, the hag's bed — ^not far
from the village of Glan worth. She was certainly
fiir wiser than any woman^ either old or young,
of my immediate acquaintance. Jove defend me^
however^ from making an envious comparison be-
tween ladies; but facts are stubborn things^ and
the legend will prove my assertion.

t2

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

276 THE LEGEND OF CAIRN THIERNA*

O'Keefe was Icxrd of Fermov before the Roches
came into that part of the country ; and he had
an only son — never waa there seen a feier child :
his young face filled with innocent joy was enough
to make any heart glad, yet his father looked on
his smiles with sorrow, for an old hag had foretold
that this boy should Ibe drowned belore be giBW up
to manhood.

Now, altlMNS^ the pfopheeles &i Pastoitoi were
a la&tre, h is lio iteason why pyophec^s sfcould
ikltdg^tkey be despised^ The aift ift modem taaaes
mmf he lost, as well as that of uniting beer out ef
the iHenntain heath, which the I^anes did to gf Ml
pM&etioTL But I take it, the midt of Tom Walker
h BO bttd ftubstftute for the obe ; and if evil pro-
{^des were to come to pass, I&e the M woman's,
in my opinion we are fiff more comfortable with-
out such knowledge.

'^ Infant heir of proud Fermoy,
Fear not fields of slaughter;
Storm nor fire fear not, my boy.
But shun the fatal water."

These were the warning wc^dd which caused the
chief of Fermey so modi unhai^itess. H]» inlaxti
S6» was carefully presented all apj^ooch to Kbe
river, and anxious watch was kept ovet ewtty {day-
fill movement. The child grew xep m strength «aA

Diaitized by Google

THE LEGEND OF CAIRK THIERNA. 977

in beautjj aad eveij daj liecame mope dear to his
father^ who hopii^ to avert the doom^ which bow*
ever was inevitahLe, prepared to build a eastle far
removed from the dreaded eLement.

The top of Calm Thlema was the x^aoe diosen ;
atid the k»d'8 vassals were amemhled^ aad employed
in oollecting materials for the purpose. Hither
carae the fated boy ; with delight he viewed the
laborious work of raising mighty stones firom the
base to the summit of the mountain until the vast
heap which now forms its rugged crest was accu-
mulated. The workmen were about to commence
the buildings and the boy^ who was considered in
safety when on the jfumnUau, was allowed to xove
about at will. Jn hi^ case how true are tfa£ words
of the great dramatists

— " Put but a little water in a spoon.
And it shall be, as all the ocean.
Enough to stifle such a being up."

A vessel which contained a small supply of water,
brought there for the use of the workmen, attracted
the attention of the child. He saw, with wonder,
the glitter pf the sunbeams within it; he ap-
proached more near to gase^ when a fonn resem-
bling his own 9F08& before him. He gave a cry of
joy and aatomabm&fkt, a»d di?ev bcMd^ i the image
drew beck also^ and vani^ied. Again he ap-

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

278 THE LEGEND OF CAIRN THIERNA.

proaclied ; again the f<nrm appeared^ expressing in
every feature delight corresponding with his own.
Eager to welcome the young stranger^ he bent
oyer the vessel to press his lips^ and losing his
balance^ the fatal prophecy was accomplished.

The father in despair abandoned the commenced
building; and the materials remain a proof of the
folly of attempting to avert the course of fate.

The writer hopes no reader will be uncharitable
enough to suspect him of wishing to inculcate a belief
in predestination : he only follows his brief. But the
truth is, the human mind^ as may be observed in the
vulgar of every country^ has^ doubtless owing to its
weakness^ a strong bias to believe in this doctrine.
The tragic muse of Greece delighted to pourtray the
unavailing struggles of men " bound in the adamantine
chain" of destiny ; and the effect on our minds^ though
humbling^ is not dispiriting. Over the East fate is
dominant : it not only enters into the serious occupa-
tions of life^ but extends its empire through the realms
of fiction ; and the reader, were he not now to be sup-
posed familiar with such coincidences^ might perhaps
be surprised at the similarity between this legend of
the Irish peasant and the exquisite tale of Prince
Agib^ in the Thousand and One Nights.
• Cairn Thiema is the scene of a subsequent tale in

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE LEGEND OP CAIRN THIBRNA. 279

this ■action; and it only appean neoetiary to idd that
the Cork and Dublin mail coach road runt under it.
Of the Hag^t bed, a plate, though not a particularly
correct or picturesque repreientation, ia given in the
ftecond volume of Dr. Smith's History of Cork. The
Irish name (of this huge block of stone supported
by smaller stones) is correctly written Leaba CaiU
Uach. Of the hag it may be said, as has been wittily
remarked of

" St. Kereo^

If hard lying could gain it, he surely gained heaven ;
For on rock lay his limb, and rock pillowed his head,
Whenever this good holy saint kept his bed ;
And keep it he must, even to his Ust day^
For 1 'm sure he could never have thrown it away."

" Bd cairt a cheann'-adhaiH" -^ ti stone bolster— is
the usual account given of the self-mortification of
Irish saints, while the hags, their predecessors in the
island on which their piety has bestowed celebrity,
seemed to prefer sn entire couch of the same material.
These dames, however, possessed the power of pitch-
ing their pillows after any one at whom they were dis-

..i...Uk, ihv Finnii,
coiiteit)|wr«r(e« with the ifag)i« were rather
, for tradition reUtc« that

cfif n^^ vr^lHmhnir"
grt»?u fuuhts, formed

^Google

THE BOCK OP THE CANDLE.

A FEW miles west of Limerick stands t^e onee
formidable castle of Carrigogumiel. Its riven tower
and brok^ ocahway fenam in mournful evidence
of the «i«9t0 iuatedoed hj that city. Tkne^ how-
ever^ the great soother of all things^ has destroyed
the painful effect which the view of recent violence
produces on the mind. The ivy cre^ aroui^d the
riven tower^ concealing its injuries^ and upholding
it hy a tough cwathing of liallcs. The avohwi^ is
again naked hy the kmg-anned biiar which grows
across the rent^ and the shattered buttresses are
decorated with wild flowers^ which gaily spring
trom their crevices i

br^wiif with ik« tentriUe tueet of Tmtvoo.

On d^rockof Cftrrlgofuniiri, hdneemtUmm
bulU/ or Brifn Bopo bom to bniU H, dwek a liAg
OAmad OfMim who awtdo deiolato tho lunrounding
iotmtrf . 6h« wai gigantic in tise, tnd fWghtAil
io appearance. Her e^ahrows grew into aadi
oCker with a grim cnrya, and hanaath thair mattad
hrtftlaf, deqily sunk in her head, two nudl gref
Of et darted forth baneful looka of aril. From her
deeply wrinkled fonehead ifnied finrtk a hodLod
beak> dividing two ahrivelled cheeki. Her dLfnay
Upi curled with a cruel and nudignant expretfion,
and her proaoinent ahin waf itudded with bunches
of griaaly.hair.

Death waa her aport. Like the angler with hit
rod, the hag Orana would toil and watch, nor
think U labour, lo that the death of a Wodm re-
waided her vigib. Efery evening did dM light
an enehanted candle upon the rock, and whoever
looked upon it, died befoie the next moming'f run
aaeie. Numherleti wese the vtctima over which
Orana mfoiead; one after the other had aeen the
Ughif and their death waa the oonaeqnence. Henee
eame the eonntry around to be desolate, and Car-
ngmfUoii4:ii IhB lUfik til tiir t .umtJ4j, Lr>' lU <licmli;U

TliMV wait larfid iitnim to live In^ But thi-

joogle

282 THB EOCK OF THE CANDLE.

Finnii of Erin were the avengers of the oppressed.
Their fame had gone forth to distant shorel^ and
their deeds were sung by an hundred bards. To
them the name of danger was as an invitation
to a rich banquet. The web of enchantment
stopped their course as little as the swords of an
enemy. Many a mother of a son — many a wife
of a husband — ^many a sister of a brother had the
valour of the Finnian heroes bereft. Dismem-
bered limbs quivered^ and heads bounded on the
ground before their progress in battle. They
rushed forward with the strength of the furious
wind^ tearing up the trees of the forest by their
roots. Loud was their war-cry as the thunder^
raging was their impetuosity above that of com-
mon men^ and fierce was their anger as the stormy
waves of the ocean !

It was the mighty Finn himself who lifted up
his voice^ and commanded the fatal candle of the
hag Grana to be extinguished. " Thine^ Regan^
be the task/' he said^ and to him he gave a cap
thrice charmed by the magician Lunp of Lochlin.

With the star of the same evening the candle
of death burned on the rock^ and Regan stdod
beneath it. Had he beheld the slightest glimmer
of its blaze^ he^ too^ would have perished^ and the
hag Grrana^ with the morning's dawn^ rejoiced over
his corse. When Regan looked towards the lights

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE aOCi: OF TSB CAMOLE. 28S

the dmnned cap fiell orcr his eyes and preyented
bis seeing. The lodc was steep, but he climbed
up its craggy side with such caution and dex«
terity^ that^ before the hag was aware> the war*
rior^ with averted head^ had seiaed the candle>
and flung it with prodigious force into the lirit
Shannon ; the hissing waters of which quenched
its light for ever !

Then flew the charmed cap from the eyes of
Regan^ and he beheld the enraged hag with out-
stretched arms^ prepared to seize and whirl him
after her candLei Regan instantly bounded .west-
ward from the rock just two miles^ with a wild
and wondeious spring. Grana looked for a mo-
ment at the leap^ and then tearing up a huge frag-
ment of the rock^ flung it after Regan with such
tremendous force^ that her crooked hands trembled
and her broad chest heaved with heavy pu£&4 like
a smith's labouring bellows^ from the exertion.

The ponderous stone fell harmless to the ground^
for the leap of Regan far exceeded the strength
of the furious hag.. In triumph he returned to
Finn;

" The hezD valiant^ renowned, and learned ;
White-tooth'd^ graceful, magnanimous, and ao-
tive ♦."

• * 2lq i«ll|6 Apm^AC AjifOfneAc eoUc ;

tyewaijfuit neAlbcAc, «9eAqi99Ac ctt«ofiAc."

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

9M TtfC J(OCX OW THX «ANBLX.

Tii« hag Onmft |9a» nefer heud of mobs ; hoi
the aUnie remaiqi^ Mid, deeplj imprinted in it, if
•dll to he ioea the maA of the hag^i fiagers.
Thet stone le fiir taller than the tallest man, asd
the power of ioaetj men would €ul to move it
from the q^ where it £b11.

The grass may wither around it^ the ^ade and
plough destroy dull heaps of earthy the walls of
castles fall and perish^ hut Ihe £une of the Finnii
of Erin endures with the rocks themsdves, and
Ctofigh'-a^RegauM is a monument fitting to pxeK
serve the memory of die deed !

The FinnU are> in Ireland^ what the race who fought
at Thebm and Troy were in Greece ; Biguid and hie.
companiMis tn Soandinayia ; Dictricii and his warrioiB
in Gormapy ; Arthwr and his loughts in Efri^n ; and
Charlemagne and the Paladins in France ; that is^ my-
thic herpes^ Apoc^ved to have fsr exceeded in strength
and prowess the puny beiDgs who now occupy their
place. Their deeds were confined to no one part of
the island^ for hillSj rocks, and e tones in each pf<w
Tince still testify their superhumaia ym$ja% a^d m^nj
an extant poem and many »
their exploits. The pre€eding|
which the writer has veivtu
idiomatic peenliaritte* of the ]

TUfi BOCK OF THE CAKDLE. 285

Regan's letp and the hag's slone-cast will find nu-
merous parallels in the legends of other oonntriai. In
German tradition, a young giantess makes a grand
clearance of a wide falley ; and pitching rocks across
an arm of the sea, by way of trying each other's might,
was a common amusement of the northern giants.

An humorous friend writes thus of a large stone near
Dublin, after describing the yarious oljects which an-
tiquaries bad assigned for its use.

^' Or left by the giants of aid whopky*d quoha
When their game they forsook to attack the poiaie*.
Potaiesf sure the root was not then in its glory.
No matter— 'tis true as of giants the story !"

CLOUGH NA CUDDY.

Above all the islands in the lakes of Killamej
give 'me Innisfallen — '^ sweet Innisfallen^" as the
nlelddious Moore calls it. It is^ in truths a fairj
iale> although I have no fairy story to tell you
ahout it ; and if I had^ these are such unbelieving
times^ and people of late have grown so sceptical^
that they only smile at my stories^ and doubt
them.

However^ none will doubt that a monastery
once stood upon Innisfallen island^ for its ruins
may still be seen ; neither^ that within its walls
dwelt certain pious and learned persons called
Monks. A very pleasant set of fellows they were,
I mskke not the smallest doubt ; and I am sure of
this, that they had a very pleasant spot to enjoy
themselves in after dinner — ^the proper time, be-
lieve me, and I am no bad judge of such matters,
for the enjoyment of a fine prospect.

Out of aU the monks you could not pick a bet-
ter fellow nor a merrier soul than father Cuddy :
he sung a good song, he told a good story, and

Digitized byV^OOQlC

CL0U6H NA CUDDY. MT

%ad a jolly^ comfortable-looking paunch of his
own^ that was a credit to any refectory table.
He was distinguished above all the rest by the
name of '* the fat father." Now there are many
that will take huff at a name ; but father Cuddy
had no nonsense of that kind about him; he
laughed at it<^— and well able he was to laugh^ for
his mouth nearly reached from one ear to the other :
his mighty in truths be called an open countenance.
As his paunch was no disgrace to his food^ neither
was his nose to his drink. 'Tis a doubt to me if
there were not more carbuncles upon it than ever
were seen at the bottom of the lake^ which is said
to be full of them. His eyes had a right merry
twinkle in them^ like moonshine dancing on the
water ; and his cheeks had the roundness and
crimson glow of ripe arbutus berries.

" He eat, and drank, and prayed, and slept. —

What then?
He eat, and drank, and prayed, and slept again !"

Such was the tenor of his simple life : but when
he prayed, a certain drowsiness would come upon
him, which, it must be confessed^ never occurred
when a well-filled '^ black- Jack" stood before him.
Hence his prayers were short and his draughts
were long. The world loved him, and he saw no
good reason why he vhould not in return love its

Digitized by CjOOQ IC

288 CI.OVOH NA cumnr.

TtBtiiioii and ite mqinteai^. Biii^ is tinia waity
lie miisl haye been a pious naa, or die wlmt teU
kiim sever would bave hafpenedl

Spukual afluxs^for it was renpeeting the im^
p cfrlation of a tun oi wiae into the island nana^
gMxy-^-^manded tke preeenoe of one of the bro*
therhood of lui^Jlen at the ahbey of Ivelfl^^
now eaUed Mvcras. The superintendence oftys
iaiKportaait matter was cotamitSed to leithef Codc^^
who felt too deif^ interested in the fntOEre Wd«i
tee of tajof wmmrndty of which he was a rnern^
her, to nei^eet or delay such wissictti. With the
monuiigf s light he was sees guiding hie shadlop
aorese the (Aimste waters of the lake towards the
peiBBSuhi of Muctnsa; and having moored his
litde hnBh in safety beneath the shdieif of a wwte«
worn rock^ he advanced with becoomi^ digBilj
towards the abbey.

The stillness of the bright and balmy hour was
broken by the heavy footsteps of the zealous fa-
ther. At the sound the startled deer> shaking the
dew from dieir sides^ qnrung up froet tlKiir le^,
and as l^ey bounded ofiu-.^' Hah V ea^dalBled
Cuddy^ '^ what a noble haunch goes then^ !-^how
delkioiai it would look said^ing upon a goodly
fdatter!"

Am he ptpeeeded, the mountain bee haikflied
hda tune of gladness arosnd the heljr many sav^

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

• CLOU6H NA CUDDT. 289

when buried in the foz-g^e bell, or lerelHng
upon a fingrant bundi <^ thjme ; and even then
the little yoice muimuied oat hajfpmem in low
and broken tones of voluptuous delight. Father
Cuddy derived no small comfort horn the sound,
for it presaged a good metheglin season, and me*
th^tin he r^arded, if well nwmnfartnred, to be
no bad liquor, particularly when theie was no
stint of usquebaugh in the brewing.

Arrived within the abbey garth, he was re-
ceived with due respect by the brethren of Irelag^,
and arrangements for the embarkation of the wine
were completed to his entire tatistactUnu ** Wel-
come, father Cuddy," said the jvior : ** grace be
on you/'

'^ Grace before meat, then," said Cuddy, '' for
a long walk always makes me hungry, and I am
certain I have not walked less than half a mile
this morning, to say nothing of crossing the water."

A pasty of choice flavour felt the truth of this
assertion, as regarded father Cuddy's appetite.
After such consoling repast, it would have been a
reflection On monastic hospitality to depart with-
out partaking of the grace-cup ; moreover, father
Cuddy had a particular respect for the antiquity
of that custom. He liked the taste of the grace-
cup well; — ^he tried another, — it was no. less ex-i

PABT II. , u

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

290 CLOUGH KA

cellent; and when he har
he found hit heart expand^
willing to emhrace all v
there is christian love an
I said he sung a good 9
are good songs^ and in
tion, I did not mean to
psalm-singer. It was ^
that wherever father
lody were with him ;
lody on his tongue ;
are equally well kno
but he took good a
To please the brot'
pleased him^ he si
his song will well

" Qua
Cui
(n stahi
El

Q

dbyGoogl

Ora tofta in mciUfi»

Mappa bene extenia

Nitidinima lance contideBt */'

Huch W8f hif fong. Father Cuddy amacked his
lips at the recollectum of Margery'f deliciouf fried
€fgp, which alwayf imparted a peculiar reliah to
his liquor. The rery idea provoked Cuddy tu
raise the cup to hit mouth, and with one hearty
pull thereat he finished its contents.

This is, and erer was, a censorious world, often
construing what is only a fair allowance into an
excess ; but I scorn to reckon up any man's drink,
like an unrelenting host, therefore I cannot tell
how many brimming draughts of wiae, bedecked
with the venerable Bead, father Cuddy emptied

O *ti» qggf Bit • taest
When %o whiu miid ftd f WlCI
From under tkt nruinger ikey 'fc ttken^

And bf ftit Mu^'STy^
Och * *u» *hc '• fuU of gkt,

i 1 Ikt fMhert of bscon.

290 CLOUGH NA CUDDY.

ceilent; and when he had iswallowed the thitd
he found his heart expand^ and put forth its fihree^
willing to emhrace all mankind. Surely^ then,
there is christian love and charity in wine !

I said he sung a good song. Now though psalms
are good songs, and in accordance with his voca-
tion, I did not mean to imply that he was a mere
psalm-singer. It was well known to the brethren,
that wherever father Cuddy was, mirth and me-
lody were with him ; — ^mirth in his eye, and me-
lody on his tongue ; and these, ftom experience,
are equally well known to be thirsty commodities ;
but he took good care never to let them run dry.
To please the brotherhood, whose excellent wine
pleased him, he sung, and as '* in vino Veritas/'
his song will w^ become this veritable history.

" Quam pulehra sunt ova

Cum alba et nova
In stabulo sdte leguntur ;

Et a Margery bella.

Quae festiva puella !
Pinguis lardi cum frustis coquuntur.

" Ut belles in prato
Aprico et lato
Sub sole tarn la?te renident

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

CLOVOH NA CUDDY. 291

Ora tofta in mantfi,
Mappa bene extensa
. NitidlMima lance coDiide»t *."

Such W8f hif long. Father Cuddy mnacked his
lips at the recoUectlon of Margery's delidcms fried
eggSi which always imparted a peculiar relish to
his liquor. The rery idea provoked Cuddy tu
raise the cup to his mouth, and with one hearty
pull thereat he finished its contents.

This is^ and erer was, a censorious world, often
construing what is only a fair allowance into an
excess ; but I scorn to reckon up any man's drink^
like an unrelenting host, therefore I cannot tell
how many brimming draughts of wine, bedecked
with the lienerable Bead, father Cuddy emptied

* O 'tin eggf are • txtai

When to white and lo twiet
Prom under the manger they 're taken,

And hy fair Margery,

Och! *tU she's full of fl(lee,
They are iHed with fat raahen of bacon.

Just like daieiea all ipread

O'er a broad aunny mead
In the tunbeama no bcauteoutly nhinin^

Are iUed eggt, weU dinplAyM

On a diahf when we *ve laid
The doth, and are tl.irUirc; of dirin/.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

292 CLOUGH NA CUDDY.

into his ^* soul-ca89!»" so he figuratively termed the
body.

His respect for the goodly company of the monks
of Irelagh detained him until their adjournment
to vespers^ when he set forward on his return to
Innisfallen. Whether his mind was occupied in
philosophic contemplation or wrapped in pious
musings^ I cannot declare^ but the honest father
wandered on in a different direction from that in
which his shallop lay. Far be it from me to in-?
sinuate that the good liquor which he had so
commended caused him to forget his road^ or that
his track was irregular and unsteady. Oh no !--^
he carried his drink bravely^ as became a decent
man and a good christian; yet^ somehow^ he
thought he could distinguish two moons. ^^ Bless
my eyes," said father Cuddy, '^ every thing is
changing now-a-days ! — ^the very stars are not in
the same places they used to be ; I think Cam-
ceachta (the Plough) is driving on at a rate I
never saw it before to-night ; but I suppose the
driver is drunk, for there are blackguards every
where."

Cuddy had scarcely uttered these words, when
he saw, or fancied he saw, the form of a young
woman, who, holding up a bottle, beckoned him
towards her. The night was extremely beautiful.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

CLOUOH NA CUDDY. 293

and the white dress of the girl floated gracefully
ill the moonlight as with gay step she tripped on
before the worthy father^ archly looking back
upon him over her shoulder. *

^' Ah, Margery^ merry Margery !" cried Cuddy,
'* you tempting little rogue !

*^Et a Margery bella,
Quasf estiva pueUa !'

I see you, I see you and the bottle ! let me but
catch you, Margery bella I" and on he followed^
panting and smiling, after this alluring apparition*

At length his feet grew weary, and his breath
failed, which obliged him to give up the chase ;
yet such was his piety that, unwilling to rest in
any attitude but that of prayer, down dropped fa-
ther Cuddy on his knees. Sleep, as usual, stole
upon his devotions, and the morning was far ad-
vanced when he awoke from dreams, in which
tables groaned beneath their load of viands; and
wine poured itself free and sparkling as the moun-
tain spring.

Rubbing his eyes, he looked about him, and
the more he looked the more he wondered at the
alteration which appeared in the face of the coun-
try. " Bless my soul and body !" said the good
father, " I saw the stars changing last night, but
here is a change !" Doubting his sens^, he looked

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

294 CLOUGH XA CUDDY.

y
again. The hilb bolts the dame majestic outline

a«; on the pireoeding day^ and the lake spread it-
self beneath his view in the same tranquil beauty^
and studded with the same number of islands ; but
erery smaller feature in the landscape was strangely
altered. What had bei^n naked rocks, were now
clothed with holly and arbutus. Whole woods had
disappeared, and waste places had become culti-
vated fields; and, to complete. the work of en-
chantmentj the vefy season itself seemed changed.
In the rosy dawn of a summer's morning he had
kft the monafitery of Innlsfallen, and he now felt
in every sight and sound the dreariness of winter.
The hard ground Was covered with withered
leaves; iddes depended from lea^ess branches;
he heard the sweet low note of the Robin^ who
femiliarly approached him ; and he felt his fingers
, numbed firom the nipping fh)st. Father Cuddy
fbund it rather difficult to account for such sudc^
transformations^ and to convince himself it was
not the illusion of a dfeam^ he was about to ari9e>
when, lo ! he discovered both his knees buried SU:
least six inches in the iBolid stone ; for, notwith-
standing all these changes^ he had never altered
his devout pGntion^

Cuddy was now wide awake, and felt, when he
fgi^ up, his joints sadly crtimped, which it was
only natural they should be, considering the hard

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

CLOUGH NA CUDDY. 295

texture of the Btone^ and the depth his knees had
sunk into it. But the great difficulty was to explain
how, in one night, summer had become winter,
whole woods had been cut down, and well-grown
trees had sprouted up. The miracle, nothing else
could he conclude it to be, urged him to hasten
his return to Innisfallen, where he might learn
some explanation of these marvellous events.

Seeing a boat moored within reach of the shore,
he delayed not, in the midst of such wonders, to
soek his own bark, but, seizing the oars, pulled
stoutly towards the island; and here new won-
ders awaited him.

Father Cuddy waddled, a# fast as cramped limbs
could carry his rotund corporation, to the gate of
the monastery, where he loudly demanded ad-
mittance.

" Holloa ! whence eome you, master monk, and
whftt 's your business ?" demanded a stranger who
occupied the porter's place.

^' Business !-— my business !". repeated the con-
founded Cuddy, — *' why, do you not know me ?"
Has the wine anrived safely ?"

'^ Hence, fellow I" said the porter's representa^
tive, in a surly tone ; '^ nor think to impose oh
me with your monkish tales."

'^ FeUow !" exclaimed the father : " mercy upon
us, thfit I sh(mld be so spoken to at the g&te of my

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

296 CLOUGH KA CUDDY.

own house ! — Sooandrel !" cried Cuddj^ raising
hiB voice, "do you not see my garb— my holy
garb?"

« Ay, fellow," replied he of the keys— "the
garb of laziness and filthy dehauchery, which has
been expelled from out these walls. Know you
not, idle knave, of the suppression of this nest of
superstition, and that the abbey lands and pos-
sessions were granted in August last to Master
Rohert Collan, by our Lady Elizabeth, sovereign
queen of England, and paragon of all beauty —
whom God preserve !"

"Queen of England !" said Cuddy; "there
never was a sovereign queen of England — this is
but a piece with the rest. I saw how it was going
with the stars last night — the world 's turned up-
side down. But surely this is Innisfallen island,
and I am the Father Cuddy who yesterday morn-
ing went over to the abbey of Irelagh, respecting
the tun of wine. Do you not know me now ?'*

" Know you ! — ^how should I know you ?*' said
the keeper of the abbey. " Yet true it is, that
I have heard mygrandmother, whose mother re^
membered the man, often speak of the fat Father
Cuddy of Innisfallen, who made a profane and
godless ballad in praise o^ fried eggs, of which he
and his vile crew knew more than they did of the
word of God ; and who, being drunk, it is said

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

CLOU6H NA CUDDY. 297

tumbled into tHe lake one night, and was drowned ;
but that must have been a hundred, ay, m(»re than
a hundred years since." ^

" 'Twas I who composed that song in praise of
Margery's fried eggs, which is no profane and god-
less ballad — no other Father Cuddy than myself
ever belonged to Innisfallen," earnestly exclaimed
the holy man. '^A hundred years! — ^what was
yom: great-grandmother's name ?"

^' She .was a Mahony of Dunlow — Margaret ni
Mahony ; and my grandmother — "

'^ What ! merry Margery of Dunlow your great-
grandmother !" shouted Cuddy. St Brandon help
me ! — the wicked wench, with that tempting bottle !
—why, 'twas only last night — a hun^d years ! —
your great-grandmother, said you ?— God bless usi
there has been a strange torpor over me ; I must
have slept all this time !"

That Father Cuddy had done so, I think is suf-
ficiently proved by the changes which occurred
during his nap. A reformation, and a serious one
it was for him, had taken place. Eggs fried by
the pretty Margery were no longer to be had in
Innisfallen; and, with a heart as heavy as his
footsteps, the worthy man directed his course to-
wards Dingle, where he embarked in a vessel on
the point of sailing for Malaga. . The rich wine

Digitized by CjOOQ IC

298 CLOUGH NA CUDDY.

of that place had of old impressed him with a high
iespect for its monastic establishments^ in one of
which he quietly wore out the remainder of his
days.

The stone impressed with the mark of Father
Cuddy's knees may be seen to this day. Should
any incredulous persons doubt my story, I request
them to go to Killamey, where Clough na Cuddy
— so is the stone called — remains in Lord Ken«
mare's park, an indisputable evidence of the fact.
Spillane, the bugle-man» will be able to point it
out to them, as he did so to me.

Stories of wonderful sleepers are common to most
countries ; of persons who, having fallen ihto a slumber,
remained so for a long course of years ; and who found,
<m waking, every thing with which they had been
familiar altered ; all their former friends and com*
panions consigned to the tomb, and a new generation,
with new manners and new ideas, arisen in their places.
It was thus that Greece fabled of Epimenides, the epic
poet of Crete, who, going in search of one of his sheep,
entered a cavern to repose during the mid-day heat,
and slept there quietly, according to Eudamus, for
forty-seven years, while Fausanias states his nap to
have extended thirty years more. 'When he awoke,
fancying that he had only taken a short doze, he pro- '
ceeded in quest of his ewe.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

CLOUGH NA CUDDY, 299

^he legend of the Seven 6leepen wat current
throughout the £a8t^ since the Prophet hu deigned
to give them a place in the Koran. Their storji the
most famous one of the kind^ will be found in the
Mines de VOrient, where it is related at great length.

The scene of a similar legend is placed by Paulua
Diaconus on the shore of the Baltic^ where^ in ^^ a darke
and obscure caveme," five men were found sleeping^
** their bodies and garments in no part consumed, but
sound and whole as at first, who by their habits ap-
peared to be ancient Romans. Certaine of the in*
habitants bad often made attempts to waken them, but
could not. Upon a time, a wicked fellow purposing
to dispoile and rob one of them of his garment, he no
sooner toudied it but his hand withered and dried up.
Olaus Magnus was oi opinion that they were confined
thither to some strange purpose^ that when their trance
was expired they might either discover strange visions
revealed unto them, or else they were to teach and
preach the diristian faith to infidels, who never knew
the evangelicall doctrine." Heywood'a Hierarchie of
the Blessed AngeUs,

In German tradition we meet the account of the
woman who sought a night's lodging from the cele-
brated HeilJng, and who, when she awoke in the
morning, found herself lying at the foot of a rock,
where she had slept an hundred years : and also the
tale of honest Peter Klaus, who slumbered for twenty
years in the bowling-green of Kyfi^hftuser ; which last
has furnished l^r. Washington Irving with the ground-

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

SOO CLOUGH NA CUDDY.

work of his incomparable Rip van Winkle ; a beautiful
specimen of the mode in which true genius is able to
boi^ow and appropriate.

Another sleepy legend^ related in Ireland^ called
" the Song of the little Bird/' was communicated to
tlie Amulet, for 1827> one of the elegant literary toys
which make their annual appearance.

Miss Luby, in her poem on Killamey> has preserved
the story of Clongh na Cuddy, both in clever verse
and in a prose note. The localities mentioned will be
perfectly familiar to all who have visited that r^oit
of enchantment Part of the monastic ruins on Innis-
fallen have been converted into a banqueting-house,
which is the subject of t£e vignette title-page of Mr.
Weld's account of those lakes ; a work worthy of the
scenery it illustrates.

Mr. Moore has written some exquisite verses, in the
Irish Melodies, on his departure from that island ; and
a sonnet and two-thirds, of a less sentimental nature,
on dinuig there, was extracted from an artist's sketch-
book. These lines may be quoted in support of the
legend, as evidence of the reputed character of the pious
chroniclers of Innisfallen ; but as " in vino Veritas/'
their work, if not the very best, is certainly one of the
best, Irish historical records extant.

<' Hail, reverend fathers ! whose long-buried bones
Still sanctify this sod whereon we dine,
And take, as we are wont, our glass of wine.

^"^hold, we pour, amid these hallow'd stones.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

CLOUGH NA CUDDY. 301

Libation dae^ unto yotur thirsty day !
For to be dry for now six hundred years^
Upon my soul, good fathers ! moves my tears.

And almost makes me rather drink than pray.

To think of what a long long thirst you have ;
You. who were wet and merry souls, I wot.
And most ecclesiastically took your pot.

'Tis pity, faith it is, you 're in the grave :
But since it is our comftaon fate, alas !
Good by, good friars ! — Come, Tom, fill your glass.

Quoth Thomas, gravely, ^ I do much revere
The day wherein such reverend bones do lie ;
Tet thus to toast them, I would not comply.

But that their reverences are where they are ;

J'or were they face to face, God bless my soul !
And we had twice as many jugs and bottles.
And they set to, with all their thirsty throttles,

A pretty hearing we 'd have of our bowl.* "

Digijized by LjOOQ IC

BARRY OF CAIRN THIERXA.

Fbrmoy^ though now so pretty and so clean a
town^ was once as poor and as dirty a village as
any in Ireland. It had neither great barracks^
grand church, nor buzzing schools. Two-storied
houses were but few: its street — ^for it had but
one: — was chiefly formed of miserable mud cabins ;
nor was the fine scenery around sufficient- to in-
duce the traveller to tarry in its paltry inn beyond
the limits actually required.

In those days it happened that a regiment of foot
was proceeding from Dublin to Cork. One com-
pany, which left Caher in the morning, had, with
^' toilsome march," passed through Mitchelstown,'
tramped across the Kilworth mountains, and, late
of an October evening, tired and hungry, reached
Fermoy, the last stage but one of their quarters.
No barracks were then built there to receive them ;
and every voice was raised, calling to the gaping
villagers for the name and residence of the billet-
master.

'' Why, then, can't you be easy now, and let a

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

BARRY OF CAIRN TUIERNA. 303

body tell you/' said one. ^' Suie^ then^ how can
I answer you all at once ?" said another. *^ Anan !"
cried a thirds affecting not to understand the Ser-
jeant who addressed him. ^' Is it Mr. Consadine
you want?" replied a fourth^ answering one ques-
tion by asking another. ^' Bad luck to the whole
. breed of sogers!" mattered a fifth villager — '* it 's
come to eat poor people that work for their bread
out of house and home you are." " Whisht^
Teigue^ can t you now ?" said his neighbour^ Jog-
ging the last speaker ; " there 's the house^ gentle-
men — you see it there yonder forenent you, at the
bottom of the street, with the light in the win-
dow j or stay, myself would think little of nifoning
down with you, poor creatures ! for 'tis tired and
weary you must be after the road." " That 's an
honest fellow," said several of the dust-covered
soldiers ; and away acamp^ed Ned Fl3rnn, with
all the men of war following dose at his heels.

Mr. Consadine, the billet-master was, as may
be supposed, a person of some, and on such occa-
sions as the present, of great oonaderation in Fer-
moy. He was of a portly build, and of a grave
and slow movement, suited at once to his import-
ance and his sixe. . Three inches of fair linen were
at all times visible between his. waistband and
waistcoat. His. kreeches-pockets were never but-
toned ; abd, scorning to conceal the bull-like pro-
Digitized by CjOoqIc

304 BARRir OF CAIRN THIERKA.

portions of his chest and neck> his collar was gene«
Tally open, as he wore no cravat. A flaxen bob-
wig commonly sat fairly on his head and squarely
on his forehead, and an ex^officio pen was stuck
behind his ear. Such was Mr. Consadine : billet-
master-general, barony sub-constable, and deputy-
clerk of the sessions, who was now just getting
near the end of his eighth tumbler in company
with the proctor, who at that moment had begun
to talk of coming to somethiilg like a fair settle-
ment about his tithes, when Ned Flynn knocked.

'' See who 's at the door, Nelly," said the eldest
Miss Consadine, raising her voice, and calling to
the barefooted servant girl.

" 'Tis the sogers^ sir, i§ come !" cried Nelly,
running back into the room without opening the
door ; " I hear the jinketing of their swords and
bagnets on the paving stones."

*^ Never welcome them at this hour of the
night," said Mr. Consadine, taking up the candle,
and moving off to the room on the opposite side
of the hall which served him for an office.

Mr. Consadine's own pen and that of his son
Tom were now in full employment. The officers
were sent to the inn ; the Serjeants, corporals, &c.
were billeted on those who were on indifierent
terms with Mr. Consadine; for, like a worthy
>an, he leaned as light as he could on his friends.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

BARBT OF CAIRN 1HIEBHA« MS

The sddieiB had nearly all departed £br their
qnarterg^ when one poor fellow^ who had ftflea
asleep^ leaning on his moskel against the wal^ was
awakened by the silence, and^ storting up^ he went
over to the table at which Mn Consadine was
seated, hoping his worship would give him a good
biUet.

^' A good billet, my lad/' said the hiUet-master-
general, barony sub-constable, and deputy-deik
of the sessions—^ that you shall have, and on the
biggest house in the place. Do you hear, Tom !
make out a billet for this man upon Mr. Bany of
Cairn Thiema."

" On Mr. Barry of Caim.Tlriema !" said Tom
with surprise.

" Yes; on Mr. Barry of Cairn Thiema*-the
great Barry !" replied his father giving a nod, and
closing his right eye slowly> with a semi-drunken
wink. '' Is not he said to keep the grandest house
in this part of the country? — or stay, Tom, just
hand me over the paper, and 1 11 write the billet
myself."

The billet was made out accordingly ; the sapd
glittered on the signature and broad flourishes of
Mr. Consadine, and the weary grenadier received
it with becoming gratitude and thinks. Taking
up his knapsack and firelock he left the office, and
Mr. Consadine waddled back to the proctor to

PABT II. ^ X

' Digitized by LjOOQ IC

306 BARRY OF CAIRN THIERNA.

chuckle oyer the trick that he played the soldier^
and to laugh at the idea of his search after Barxy
of Cairn Thiema's house.

Truly had he said no house could vie in capacity
with Mr. Bairy's; for^ like Allan-a^Dale's^ its roof
was

" The blue yault of heaven^ with its crescent so
pale."

Barry of Cairn Thiema was one of the chieftains
who, of old, iorded it over the barony .rf Barry-
more, and for some reason or other he had become
enchanted on the mountain of Cairn Thiema,
where he was known to live in great state, and
was often seen by the belated peasant.

Mr. Consadine had informed the soldier that
Mr. Barry lived a little way out of the town, on
the Cork road;, so the poor fellow trudged along
for some time, with eyes right and eyes left, look-
ing for the great house ; but nothing could he see,
only the dark mountain of Cairn Thiema before
him, and an odd cabin or two on the road side.
At last he met a man, of whom he asked the way
to Mr. Barry's.

" To Mr. Barry's !" said the man ; ^' what
Barry is it you want ?"

" I can't say exactly in the dark," retumed the
soldier. « Mr. What 's-his-name, the billet mas-

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

BARRT OF CAIRN THIERNA. ' 307

ter^ lias given me the direction on my billet ; but
be said it was a laige bousey and I tbink be called
him the great Mr. Barry."

" Why, sure, it wouldn't be the great Barry of
Cairn Thiema you are asking about ?"

'' Ay," said the soldier, '* Cairn Thiema — that's
the very place : can you tell me where it is ?"

'^ Cairn Thiema/' repeated the man ; " Barry
of Cairn Thiema — I *U show you the way and
welcome ; but it 's the first time in all my bom
days that ever I heard of a soldier being billeted
<m Barry of Cairn Thiema. 'Tis surely a queer
thing for old Dick Consadine to be after sending
you there," continued he; " but you see that big
mountain before you — that 's Cairn Thiema. Any
one will show you Mr. Barry's when you get to
the top of it, up to the big heap of stones." . .
■ The weary soldier gave a sigh as he walked
forward towards the mountain; but he had not
proceeded far when he heard the clatter of a
horse coming along the road after him, and turn-
ing his head round, he saw a dark figure rapidly
i^proaching him. A tall gentleman, richly dressed,
and mounted on a noble gray horse, was soon at
his side, when the rider pulled up, and the soldier
repeated his inquiry after Mr. Barry's of Cairn
Thiema,

xa

Digitized by LjOOQIC

BARRY OF CAIRN THIERNA.

" I 'm Bany of Cairn Thierna/' said the gen-
tleman ; ** what is your business with me, friend ?*'

'* I 've got a billet on your house^ sir/' replied
the soldier^ from the billet-master of Fermoy."

" Have you, indeed ?" said Mr. Barry ; '^ well,
then, it is not very far off; follow me, and you shall
be well taken: care of."

He turned off the road, and led his horse up the
steep side of the mountain, followed by the sol-
dier, who was astonished at seeing the. horse pro-
ceed with so little difficulty, where he was obliged
to scramble up, and could hardly find or keep his
footing. When they got to the top there was a
house sure enough, far beyond any house in Fer-
moy. It was three stories high, with fine win-
dows, and all lighted up within, as if it was full
of grand company. There was a hall door, too,
with a flight of stone steps before it, at which
Mr. Barry dismounted, and the door was opened
to him by a servant man, who took his horse
round to the stable.

Mr. Barry, as he stood at the door, desired the
soldier to walk in, and instead of sending him
down to the kitchen, as any other gentleman
would have done, brought him into the parlour,
and desired to see his bill^.

"Ay" said Mr. Barry, looking at it and smiling.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

BABRY OF CAIRN THIERNA. 309

** I know Dick Conaadine well — he 's a merry fel-
low^ and has got some excellent cows on the inch
field of Cairicks^brick ; a sirloin of good beef is no
had thing for supper.

Mr. Barry .then called out to some of his at-
tendantSj and desired them to lay the doth^ and
make all ready, which was no sooner done than a
smoking sirloin of beef wa3 placed before them.

'^ Sit down, now, my honest fellow," said Mr.
Barry, " you must be hungry after your long
day's march."

The soldier, with a profusion of thankjs for such
hospitality^ and acknowledgments for such con-
descension, sat down, and made, as might be ex-
pected, an excellent supper; Mr. Barry never
letting his jaws rest for want of .helping until
he was fairly done. Then the boiling water was
brought in, and such a jug of whiskey punch was
made, there was no faulting it.

They sat together a long time, talking over the
punch, and the fire was so good, and Mr. Barry
himself was so good a gentleman, and had such
fine converse about every thing in the world, far
or near, that the soldier never felt the night going
over him. At last Mr. Barry stood up, sayings
it was a rule with him that every one in his
house should be in bed by twelve oldock, *^ and,"
said he, pointing to a bundle which lay in one
comer of the room, '/take that to bed with you,

" _ ' "■ Digitized by LjOOQ IC

J

310 BARRY OF CAIRN THIERNA.

it 's the hide of the cow which I had killed for
your -supper; give it to the billet-master when
70U go hack to Fermoy in the mornings and tell
him that Barry of Cairn Thiema sent it to him.
He will soon understand what it means^ I pro-
mise you ; so good night, my brave fellow ; I wish
you a comfortable sleep, and every good fortune ;
but I must be off and away out of this long before
you are stirring."

The soldier gratefully returned his host's good
night and good wishes^ and went off to the room
which was shown him, without claiming, as every
one knows he had a right to do, the second-best
bed in the house.

Next morning the sun awoke him. He was
lying on the broad of his back, and the sky-lark
was singing over him in the beautiful blue sky,
and the bee was humming close to his ear among
the heath. He rubbed his eyes ; nothing did he
see but the clear sky, with tWo or three light
morning clouds floating away. Mr. Barry's fine
house and soft feather bed had melted into air,
and he found himself stretched on the side of
Cairn Thiema, buried in the heathy with the
cow-hide which had been given him rolled up
under his head for a pillow.

" Well," said he, *' this beats cock-fighting !

'didn't I spend the pleasantest night I ever
in my life with Mr. Barry last nif^t? —

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

BARRY OF CAIRN THIERNA. 311

And what in the world lias become of the house^
and the hall door with the steps^ and the very bed
that was under me ?"

He stood up. Not a vestige of a house or any
thing like one, but the rude heap of stones on the
top of the mountain^ could he see^ and ever so far
off lay the Blackwater glittering with the morn-
ing sun^ and the little quiet village of Fermoy on
its banks^ from whose chimneys white wreaths of
smoke were beginning to rise upwards into the
sky.

Throwing the cow-hide over his shoulder, he
descended, not without some difficulty, the sleep
side of the mountain, up which Mr. Barry had
led his horse the preceding night with so much
ease, and he proceeded along the road, pondering
on what had befallen him.

When"he reached Fermoy, he went straight to
Mr. Consadine's, and asked to see him.

*' Well, my gay fellow," said the official Mr.
Gonsadine, recognising, at a glance, the soldier,
^^ what sort of an entertainment did you meet
wi|h fiiom Barry of Cairn Thierna?"

*' The best of treatment, sir," replied the sol-
dier ; " and well did he speak of you, and he de-
sired me to give you this cow-hide as a token
to remember him."

" Many thanks to Mr. Barry for his generosity,"

■ Digitized by Google

312 BARRY OF CAIRN THIERNA.

said the blUet-master^ maUng a bow in moek
solemnity ; " many thanks^ indeed> and a riglit
good skin it is^ wherever he got it"

Mr. Gonsadine had acarody finlahed the sen-
tence when he saw his oow-boy running up the
streets shouting and crying aloud that the best
cow in the inch field was lost and gone^ and no-
body knew what had become ^iher> or could give
the least tidings of her.

The soldier had flung the ikin on the ground,
and the cow-boy looking at it^ exclaimed —

^' That is her hide^ wherever she is l^^I 'd take
my bible oath to the two «naIL white spots^ with
the glossy black about them^ and there 's the very
pfaiee where she rubbed the hair off her shoulder
last Martinmas." Then clapping his hands to-
gether^ he literally sung, to 'Vthe tune the old
cow died of/'

Agiu oro Drimen duve ; oro bo
Oro Drimen duve; mhiel agrah !
Agus oro Drimen duve — O — Ochonel
Drimen duve deelish — go den tu slane beugh*.

* Th]«, which is written as it ifl pronoanoed, may be
translated-*-

And oh, my black cow— oh my cow,

Oh my black cow, a thousand times dear to me ;

And oh my black cow — alas, alas,

My darling black cow, why did y^u leave me.

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

BAftBY OF CAIBM THIEBVA. 818

Tliii IsmentAlkm wm itopped ihort faj Mr, Con-
iidlB0.

'« There i$ no nMnner Df douU of it/' fald bo«
** It was Bany who killed my tjett am, and all
he hoi left mc i« the hide of the prior hcait to
eomfort myself with ; }mi It will lie a warninf^ to
Dick Ccmmidine Air the rest of hii life never again
to play off his trfckfl u|irin travellers/'

An anonymotti oorrttpondent before allitded to^ has
supplied Uie eomplkr with the outline of the foregoing
tale. Another version, in which a fair dame named
L'na (Anglic^, Winny, who proves to be the qneen of
the Fairies) is iabstitnted for Mr. Barry, was reUted
to him some years sincr, under the title of ** the Lady
of the Rock/' The drcumftUnce* of the billet, the
supper, the hide, and the billet matter's lois of his
best cow, are precisely similsr in both. The scene of
the story was Blarney, and the loklier lald to be one
of Cromwell s troopers.

Acoonling to trailition, the great Barry hu bis
riisgic dwelling on the summit of (*aim Thicma, the
legend of which mountain will be found in the present
ssetion. He appears to belong to the same class of
beings as Gileroon Doonoch, or (Hleroon of the old
Head of Kinsale; Parwinneth O'Kilbriuune, or the
Gresn Man of Kilbritun ; Oarold £ark>ch, or Early
Oarrettof Killamey, &e. respecting whom stories very

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

314 BABBY OF CAIBN THIEBNA.

aimilar to the foregoing and subsequent are related.
These superhuman mortals also commonly appear be-
fore any remarkable events like the German Emperor
Charles V.^ who, with his army, according to tra-
dition, inhabit the Odenberg, in Hesse, and when
war is on the eve of breaking out, the mountain opens,
the Emperor issues forth, sounds his bugle, and with
his host passes over to another mountain. Rodenstein,
who in a similar manner announces war, was seen so
recently as 1815, previous to the landing of Napoleon,
to pass with his followers from Schnelbert to his
former strong hold of Rodenstein.

An account of the rise of the town of Fermoy to its
present state from the poor village described, may be
found in the second volume of Brewer's Beauties of
Ireland ; a work which will materially assist those in-
clined to acquire a correct knowledge of that country.
Mr. Brewer's character is already well known and
highly esteemed, as an accurate observer, a pleasing
writer, and a careful and industrious compiler : and
judging from the volumes which have appeared, the
" Beauties of Ireland" are worthy of that gentleman's
reputation.

d by Google

THE GIANTS STAIRSl

Os tibe imdlKtveai F^aaagt mad CaA doe
is an old maminn called Ropgpie's Court, Ifanf
lie ewafyVmmik fina die ttack of diiBiicTS and
tbe gdbie ends, wlddt are to be aecn look at it
wludk waj yoa wilL Hcse it was diat Mamine
Ronapie and Ilk wife Miaiignet Gould kept boose,
as ms^ be U'ji iwd to tbis dMj^ fina die great old
dumneT-pieoe, on wbidi is carred tbeir anns.
Xh^ woe a mighlT wmlbj coopley and bad but
one SOD, wbo was called Fbilip, after no less a
pefson dian die King of Spain-

Lmnediatd J on bis smeiliiig die ooid air of tbis
wodd tbe diild sneeaed, wbicb was natordfy taken
tobeagoodagnof bisbaTing adearbead; and
tbe sabseqnent npidity of bis leannng was tnafy
amasing, far on tbe werj first day a primer was
pat into bis band, be toce oat tbe A, B, C, page,
and destroyed it, as a diing^aitebeneatb bis notice-
No wonder dien diat bodi &dier and modier were
proad of dieir beir, wbo gave socb indiqnitable
proofe of genins, or, as diey call it in diat part of
die wodd, ^ganu."

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

316 THE giant's staies.

One morning, however. Master Phil, who was
then just seven years old, was missing, and no one
could tell what had hecome of him : servants were
sent in all directions to seek him, on horseback
and on foot, but they returned without any tidings
of the boy, whose disappearance altogether was
most unaccountable. A large reward was offered,
but it produced them no intelligence, and years
rolled away without Mr. and Mrs. Ronayne having
obtained any satisfactory account of the fate of
their lost child.

There lived, at this time, near Gamgaline, on^
Robert Kelly, a blacksmith by trade. He was
what is termed a handy man, and his abilities
were held in much estimation by the lads and the
lasses of the neighbourhood ; for, independent of
shoeing horses, which he did to great perfection,
and making plough irons, he interpreted dreams
for the young women, sung Arthur O'Bradley at
their weddings, and was so good natured a fellow
at a christening, that he was gossip to half the
country round.

Now it ha|](pened that Robin had a dzeam him*
self, and young Philip Ronayne appeared to him
in it at the dead hour of the night. RoUn thought
he saw the boy mounted upon a beauti^ white
horse, and that he told him how he was made a
page to the giant Mahon Mac Mabon, who had

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE giant's STAIBS. 317

earned bim ofl^ and who lield his court in the
bard heart of the rock. " The seven years — ^my
time of service — are dean out, Robin," said be,
" and if you release me this night, I will be the
making of you for ever after."

'^ And how will I know," said Robin — cunning
enough, even in his sleep — " but this is all a
dream-'"

" Take that," said the boy, " for a token" —
and at the word the white horse struck out with
one of bis bind legs, and gave poor Robin such a
kick in the forehead, that thinking be was a dead
man, he roared as loud as he could after bis brains,
and woke up calling a thousand murders. He
found himself in bed, but he had the mark of the
blow, the regidar print of a horse-shoe upon bis
forehead as red as blood ; and Robin Kelly, who
never before found himself puzzled at the dream
of any other person, did not know what to think
of bis own.

Robin was well acquainted with the Giant's
Stairs, as, indeed, who is not that knows the har-
bour ? They consist of great masses of rock, which,
piled one above another, rise like a 9ight of steps,
from very deep water, against the bold cliff of
Carrigmahon. Nor are they badly suited for stairs
to those who have legs of sufficient length to stride
over a moderate sized house, or to enable them to

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

S18 THE GIANT^S 8TAIBS.

dear the space of a mile in a hop^ step> and jump.
Both these feats the giant Mac Mahon was said
to have performed in the days of Finnian glory;
and the common tradition of the country placed
his dwelling within the diff up whose side the
stairs led.

Such was the impression which the dream made
on Robin^ that he determined to put its truth to
the test. It occurred to him, however, before
setting out on this adventure, that a plough iron
may be no bad companion, as, from experience, he
knew it was an excellent knock-down argument,
having, on more occasions than one, settled a little
disagreement very quietly : so, putting one on his
shoulder, offhe marched, in the cool of the evening,
through Glaun a Thowk (the Hawk's Glen) to
Monkstown. Here an old gossip of his (Tom
Clanoey by name) lived, who, on hearing Robin's
dream, promised him the use of his skiff, and
moreover offered to assist in rowing it to the
Giant's Stairs.

After a supper which was of the best, they em-
barked. It was a beautiful still night, and the
little boat glided swiftly along. The regular dip
of the oars, the distant song of the sailor, and
sometimes the voice of a belated traveller at the
ferry of Carrigaloe, alone broke the quietness of
the land and sea and sky. The tide, was in their

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE GIAKT^S STAIKS. 319

favour^ and in a few minutes Robin and his gossip
rested on their oars under the dark shadow of the
Giant's Stairs. Robin looked anxiously for the
entrance to the Giant's palace^ which^ it was said^
may be found by any one seeking it at midnight ;
but no such entrance could he see. His impatience
had hurried him there before that time> and after
waiting a considerable space in a state of suspense
not to be described, Robin, with pure vexation,
could not help exclaiming to his companion, *' 'Tis
a pair of fools we are, Tom Clancey, for coming
here at all on the strength of a dream."

" And whose doing is it," said Tom, ^^ but your
own?"

At the moment he spoke they perceived a faint
glimmering of light to proceed from the cliff, which
gradually increased until a porch big enough for a
king's palace unfolded itself almoi^t on a level with
the water. They pulled the skiff directly towards
th^ opening, and Robin Kelly seizing his plough
iron, boldly . entered with a strong hand and a
stout heart. Wild and strange was that entrance ;
the whole of which appeared formed 9f grim and
* grotesque faces, blending so strangely each with
the other that it was impossible to define any : the
chin of one formed the nose of another: what ap-
peared to be a fixed and stem eye, if dwelt upon,
changed to a gaping mouth ; and the lines of the

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

THE GIANT 8 STAIBS.

lofty forehead grew into a majestic aii4 flowing
beard. The more Robin allowed hims^ to coa-
template the forms around him^ the more terrific
they became ; and the stony expression of this
crowd of faces assumed a savage ferodty as his
imagination converted feature after feature into a
different shape and character. Losing the twi-
light in which these indefinite forms were visible^
he advanced through a dark and devious passage,
whilst a deep and rumbling noise sounded as if
the rock was about to dose^upon him and swallow
him up alive for ever. Now, indeed, poor Robin
felt afraid.

" Robin, Robin," said he, " if you were a fooL
for coming here, what in the name of fortune
are you now ?" But, as before, he had scarcefy
spoken, when he saw a small light twinkling
through the darkness of the distance, like a star in
the midnight sky.^ To retreat was out of the
question; for so many turnings and windings
were in the passage, that he considered he had but
little chance of making his way back. He there-
fore proceeded towards the bit of light, and came
at last into a spacious chamber, from the roof of
which hung the solitary lamp that had guided
him. Emerging from such profound gloom, the
single lamp afforded Robin abundant light to dis-
cover several gigantic figures seated round a |

+

THE OIAKT^S 8TAJU0, 8S1

lire itone table ai if in lerious deliberation, but no
word disturbed tbe breathlen nlence wbich pre-
vailed. At the head of this table sat Mahon Mac
Mahon himself, whose mi^jestic beard had taken
root, and in the oouMe of ages grown into the
stone slab. He was the first who perceived Ro*
bin; and instantly starting up, drew his long
beard from out tbe huge piece of rock in such
haste and with so sudden a jerk that it was shat*
tered into a thousand pieces.

" What seek you ?" he demanded in a voice of
thunder.

" I come/' answered Robin, with as much bold**
ness as he could put on ; for his heart was almost
fainting within him-*-'' I come," said he, " to
claim Philip Ronayne, whose time of service is
out this night." '

" And who sent you here ?" said the giant.

" 'Twas of my own accord I came," said Robin.

*' Then you must single him out from among
my pi^^/' said the giant ; " and if you fix on the
wrong one, your life is the forfeit. Follow me."
He led Robin into a hall of vast extent, and filled
with lights ; along either side of which were rows
of beautiful children all apparently seven years
old, and none beyond that age, dressed in green,
and every one exactly dressed alike.

'< Ultf," said Mahon, " you are free to take

V

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

322 tHE G1ANT*8 8TAIB9.

Philip Ronayne^ if you will ; but^ r emember, I
give but one choice.**

Robin was sadly perplexed; for there were
hundreds upon hundreds of children ; and he had
no very clear recollection of the boy he sought.
But he walked along the hall, by the side of Ma-
hon, as if nothing was the matter, although his
great iron dress clanked fearfully at every step,
sounding louder than Robin's own sledge battering
on his anvil.

They had nearly reached the end without
speaking, when Robin seeing that the only means
he had was to make friends with the giant, deter-
mined to try what effect a few soft words mig^t
have.

^^ 'Tis a fine wholesome appearance the poor
children carry," remarked Robin, ** although they
have been here so long shut out from the fresh air
and the blessed light of heaven. 'Tis tenderly your
honour must have reared them !"

'^ Ay," said the giant, ^' that is true finr you ;
so give mo j^our Jiand ; far you are, I bcikve, a
very hotiLSt fellow for a bkcksmith/*

Robin x\X the first look did not much likis the
huge size of the hand, and therefor ■- ' ' liii
plough-iron, which the giant mr. ^i tir

his grasp round and roiin4 Jignni ' J tttJi

a potatoe etdk ; on ^hi:» «il tt^ «*lifldnai

THS GIAVt'8 6TAIB8. S23

set up a ihout of lauf^ter. In tlie midst of their
mirth Rofain thought he heard his name called ;
and all ear and eye, he put his hand on the ho3r
whom he fancied had spoken^ crying out at the
same time, " Let me live or die for it^ but this is
yonng Phil Ronayne."

<' It is Philip Ronayne— happy Philip Ro*
nayne/' said his young companions; and in an
instant the hall became daric. Crashing noises
were heard, and all was in strange confusion;
but Robin held fast his priae, and found himself
lying in the gray dawn of the morning at the head
of the Giant's Stairs with the boy dasped in his

Rofain had plenty of gosrips to spread the story
of his wonderful adventure— Passage, Monkstown,
Carrigaline— the whole barony of Kerricurrihy
rung frith it*

'' Are you quite sure, Robin, it is young Phil
Ronayne you have bnm^t back with you ?" was
the regular question ; for although the boy had
been seven yean away, his appearance now was
Just the same as on the day he was misied. He
had neither grown taller nor older in look, and he
spoke of things which had happened before he was
canM off as one awakened from sleep, or as if
they bad occurred y^terday.

'^Amlmmf Wdl, that's a queer question,"

by Google

824 THE CIANT^B STAIUS;

was Robin's reply ; '^ seeing the boy has the blue
eyes of the. mother^ with the foxy hair of the fa-
ther ; to say nothing of thepurty wart on the right
side of his little nose."

However Robin Kelly may have been questioned,
the worthy couple of Ronayne's court doubted not
that he was the deliverer of their child from the
power of the giant Mac Mahon ; and the reward
they bestowed on him equalled their gratitude.

Philip Ronayne lived to be an old man ; and
lie was remarkable to the day of his death fbr his
skill in working brass and iron, whidi it was be-^
lieved he had learned during his seven years' ap-
prenticeship to the giant Mahon Mac Mahon.

This l^end^ in some particulars, resembleis those
told in Wales of Owen Lawgoch, or Owen of the
bloody hand : in Denmark, of Holger the Dane : in
Germany, of Frederic Barbarosa, of red beard, &c.
The writer of a valuable paper in the Quarterly Re-
view has thus condensed the story, which may be
found in Mr. Thiele's Danske Folkesagn, &c.

" The emperor (Frederic) is secluded in the castle
of Kyfiliaiisen, in the Hercynian forest, where he re-
mains in a state not much nnUke the description which
Cervantes has given of the inhabitants of the cavern
of Mohtesinos : he jslumbers on his throne — ^his red

Digitized by LjOOQ IC '

•THE giant's gfAlHS. ^25

beard has grown through the stotie table on which his
light arm reclines^ or, as some say^ it has grown rdund
and round it. A variation of the same fkble^ coloured
according to its locality^ is found in Denmark ; where
it is ssii, that Holger Danske^ whom the French ro-
mances call Ogier the Dane^ slumbers in the vaults
beneath Cronenburgh castle. A villain was once
allured by splendid offers to descend into the cavern
and visit the half-torpid hero. Ogier muttered to the
visitor, requesting him to stretch out his hand. The
villain presented an iron crow to Ogier, who grasped
it, indenting the metal with his fingers. * It is well !*
'^uoth Ogier, who imagined he was squeezing the hand
of the stranger, aild thus provoking his strength and
fortitude: ' there are yet men in Denmark.'"

Billy Quinn, the poet of Passage, has sung the
charms of the scenery of this legend in such popular
numbers, that it is presumed the reader will not be
displeased at iSnding a verse here. After praising
•the noble river Lee, he tells us that at Passage

**" A ferry-boat *s there, quite convenient I

For man and horse to take a ride ; !

. Who, both. in clover, may go over
To Carrigaloe at the other side.
"Tis there is seen— oh ! the sweet Marino
With trees so green oh, and fruit so red —
Brave White-point, and right forenent it
.. The Giant's Stairs, and old Horse's head."

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

926 THE giant's stairs.

Th^ witty Mr. Henry Bennett^ in his pleasant
local poem of the Steam Boat, is pleased to call the
Giant's Stairs

" a flight

of fancy."

It may be so : but against such authority the com- '
piler is enabled to support the truth of this legend^
at leasts by circumstantial evidence. A wonderful
pair of cubes have been exhibited to him in proof of
Mr. Ronayne's supernatural handicraft. Br. Smith,
in his History of Cork^ vol. i. p. 172, also says that
*' he (Mr. Philip Ronayne) invented a cube which is
perforated in such a manner that a second cube of the
same dimensions exactfy in all respects may be passed
through the same."

d by Google

Jnd now,JwHrvell! the fairy dream iso*er:
The tales my infancy had loved to hear.
Like blissful visions, fade and disappear.
Such tales Momonia's peasant tells no more !
Vanish' d are mermaids from her sea^heat shore;
Check'd is the headless horseman^s strange

career;
Fir darrig's voice no longer mocks the ear^
Nor ROCKS bear fvonderous imprints as of yore !
Such is " the march of mind" — But did the fays
C Creatures of whim — the gossamers of will J
In Ireland work such sorrow and such ill
As stormier spirits of our modern days?
Oh land beloved! ho angry voice I raise;
My constant prayer — " may peace be with thee

still."

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

ERRATA.

Page 101, line 23, for FoUuagn^ read FoUcetagiu

108, 22, /or gessoon, read gossoon*

111, 22, ^ GTsn, read Grten.

129, 18,*ior humanot^ read hermanot.

137, 12, for dares, read does.
100, 9, /or ought, r^oi/ out.

175, 3, /or Beetham, roM^ Betham.

217, 18, for KeineroBegt^ read Keinenteges,
233, t»,y&rSagan,rM<2Sagen.

LONDON:

PmVTEOBY THOMAS OAVISOy, WHITEFRTARS.

Digitiz§by Google

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

Digitized by VjOOQIC

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

JAW 1 9 tm

Digitized by LjOOQ IC

FLEX BINDIMQ